


Entwined

by Roo_Bastmoon



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cliche, First Time, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rimming, Romance, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roo_Bastmoon/pseuds/Roo_Bastmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing Jean, Logan and Scott find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entwined

The bottle clinked against the rim of his glass; Scott winced as the hollow sound bounced around the kitchen. The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters was dead quiet this time of night. Scott poured himself another round, concentrating so as not to spill again. He made a sloppy drunk.

It had been three months since Jean had… disappeared. He couldn’t bring himself to say dead yet. Three months of lying in an empty bed, silk sheets clinging to his damp skin. The summer heat invaded everything, made him sweat uncomfortably, but he wouldn’t change the bed—could not surrender even the impression of her body. It was pathetic and he knew it, grimacing as he kicked back another gulp of the searing alcohol. His vision swam a bit, blurry darkness edging closer. Wouldn’t be long now…

The light clicked on, making him flinch and screw up his eyes behind the shades. Logan leaned on the doorframe, a lit cigar dangling from his mouth, arms folded across his bare chest. Typical.

Scott had always been envious of Logan’s strength, of his magnetism. That had to have been what prompted Jean’s interest in the scruffy, shady character… Still, he couldn’t really blame her. Look at him—sex appeal dripped down his body like water. He stood there, half in shadow and half in light, utterly unconscious of his draw. Absolutely sure of himself.

Everything Scott was incapable of ever being.

Logan raked him with a patronizing gaze. "Isn’t it a bit late for little girls like you to be out of bed?" The man’s voice sounded like gravel carelessly ground under someone’s shoe. Almost a growl, really.

"What do you want, Logan?" he asked tiredly.

The older man shifted his weight, sniffed the air. "Whew. How far gone are you, priss?"

He was too drunk to take issue with the barbs tonight. Scott looked down, gave up on the glass and just took a swig from the bottle. "What does it matter?" he whispered, his tone soft under the heat of the drink.

Logan strode into the kitchen, taking sweeping, confident steps without making a sound. He put a steady, warm hand on Scott’s shoulder. "Scott…" Was that a placating note in Logan’s voice? "Scott, man. I know, okay? But drinking every night like this--"

He tensed his shoulders under Logan’s touch. "I do not--"

"I can smell it on you," Logan interrupted. "Every morning. Under your cologne and mouthwash, there’s either vodka or whiskey. That’s not kid’s stuff, Scott."

He took a deep breath and struggled not to slur. "Thank you for your concern, mother, but I don’t need your intervention."

"Fine," Logan muttered, pulling out a stool and plopping down next to him. "I don’t particularly like the role, either." Scott kept his gaze on the bottle, watched stupidly as the older man gripped his wrist and made him pour a generous helping into the glass. Logan never looked at him, not even after he had put the bottle down and let go of Scott’s wrist.

"Bottoms up."

Scott gaped as Logan downed the glass in one swallow, his breathing not even affected by the powerful drink. "That’s some good stuff." He fixed Scott with a wry glance. "You’re an expensive drunk."

"I only go for the best," Scott responded caustically.

Logan sobered, dousing his cigar in the glass. "Got that impression."

Scott searched Logan’s face, bitterness swelling in him with each passing moment. How dare the man look so cool, so unaffected? His world had imploded, his wife was… gone… and here this stray cat Mutant was making veiled comments about his personal life.

"Apparently we have the same taste," he spit out with a bit more emotion than he originally intended. The drink had cost him some self-control, perhaps.

Logan finally had the good sense to look uncomfortable, his eyes suddenly flicking down and away. "Yeah," he said huskily. "But only one of us was worthy of the best."

This gave him pause. Considerable pause. Logan? Humble? He must be drunker than he thought. He waited for Logan to look up again, but the man just took up his wrist and brought the rim of the bottle to his lips.

"Any time you want to stop bogarting the vodka, my friend," Logan said with a smirk.

He was still gripping the bottle, he realized. Without thinking, he loosened his fingers and let go. Luckily Logan’s reflexes were sharp as ever, and he caught the bottle in the mid-air, took a healthy swig, and put it back on the counter. Far away from Scott.

Instead of being angry, he fixed Scott with a conspiratorial grin. "I have to tell you, you make a lousy drunk."

"I know. I really do," he admitted.

"And it doesn’t really help, does it?"

Scott weighed how much he should reveal to Logan. The man could be so callous with other people’s feelings, but then again, like with Rogue, he could be patient and understanding. You had to catch him at the right time. And right now, Logan was being remarkably patient.

He shook his head. "It doesn’t make the pain go away, no. But it’s the only thing that lets me go to sleep."

The taller man grunted, took a sip from the glass, shrugged. "Makes sense, I suppose. The Professor won’t like it though."

"You won’t tell him?" Scott could hear the panic in his own voice.

Logan titled his head to the side. "Do I even have to? The man’s psychic."

Scott looked down at his hands folded in his lap, and bit his lip. "He hasn’t said anything."

"Well, maybe he doesn’t like the mothering role either. Then again," Logan lifted his chin with two fingers, the touch light as air, forcing him to lock gazes, "maybe he was waiting for you to realize things for yourself… What you’re doing—she wouldn’t like it, Scott."

His lower lip trembled, tears threatened to fall, but he schooled himself. "I know," he whispered, ashamed. "But I--" his voice cracked. "I’m tired, all right? I’m so tired, Logan." He leaned forward and sobbed, let the other man draw him in to a lose embrace, let himself rest his forehead on that sculpted shoulder. "I can’t sleep without her," he admitted in a tiny voice.

He couldn’t be sure, everything kept washing over him in heavy waves, but he thought he felt Logan’s fingers splay across the back of his neck, stroking his hair. It felt nice, soothing. He let himself relax.

~*~

Suddenly the younger man slumped completely forward, the tear-stained face smooshing against his arm like a sleepy toddler. Scott had finally passed out. And after only half a bottle of vodka.

Logan rolled his eyes to the ceiling. How did he get himself into this? All he wanted was a cold drink to combat the summer heat… But that was not completely honest. He could smell Scott, and the alcohol, all the way out in the hallway. He could easily have turned around and ignored the man if he wanted, but he heard the little hiccup in Scott’s breathing, figured the man was falling apart, and had to see the damage for himself.

He had given his word to Jean that he would look out for Scott. Despite how much he disliked the little tight ass.

Oh, Scott was all right, really. A good leader. A bit of a snob and a prick, but good in a fight. Inexcusable taste in music, though. But he really just disliked the man because he had won Jean’s heart. Sweet, gentle Jean. So strong and yet so fragile.

He looked at the man in his arms, listened to the little bubble in his breath, felt the young, supple body press against him in complete abandon. He could just leave the boy here, let him wake up on the kitchen floor and nurse the inevitable hangover tomorrow, and maybe that would teach him not to do it again.

Shifting up out of the chair, he watched as Scott’s head fell back, the soft black hair clinging to his forehead, his little pink mouth open in sleep. He looked no more than a child.

Biting down on a curse, Logan hoisted Scott into his arms and headed towards the boy’s bedroom, carrying Scott like a bride. For such a well-built young man, Scott’s weight was almost nothing to him. He sort of fit, oddly enough.

Logan kicked open the door and stopped abruptly, the smell of lilacs and perfume assaulting his senses. Jean. Everywhere it smelled of Jean. Even to someone without his special capabilities, her scent was obvious. He looked down at Scott. The boy must have refused to change anything in the room, trying to hold on to the memory of his wife.

A sharp agony panged in Logan. He could well understand this reaction. But for the boy to drown himself in Jean like this; it couldn’t be healthy; it couldn’t help him cope. He started towards the bed and had to stop again, the faint odor of lilacs bringing tears to his eyes.

The sheets on her side of the bed were undisturbed.

No, he could not leave the boy here. This was one step away from madness. It was not a bedroom, but a tomb. If Scott was going to survive, he was going to have to let go.

Logan turned on his heel and walked out of the room, clamping down on the cloying pity welling up in him. Scott was one of the X-Men, not a child. Logan would help him as a teammate, no more.

He swiftly weaved through the corridors and ended up in his own room, almost without realizing. Scott was still knocked out, probably would be for the rest of the night. He thought about putting the boy on the floor, but decided that would be too cruel. Gently he laid Scott’s body down on his bed, then unlaced the boots and put them carefully nearby. He removed the shades and put them on the night table, pausing when the boy murmured slightly.

He never knew Scott had such long eyelashes.

Hands on his hips, standing there, he simply stared at Scott, not sure of what to do next. He stood there for a full minute just watching the young man breathe. It was almost 3 a.m. He needed to sleep too. But fuck all if he was going to share a bed with one-eye. He’d just never live it down.

Muttering to himself, he took a pillow and stretched out on the floor. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep.

He didn’t sleep for very long, either.

Around 4 a.m. the boy started whimpering, tossing and turning as though in the throws of a fever. At first Logan tried to ignore it, but he could hear the sheets twisting around Scott’s legs, could hear the desperate moans grow more frantic. Finally he sat up, just in time to see Scott shoot up from the bed to holler, "Jean!" with his delicate hand stretched out in the darkness.

"Keep your eyes closed. You were having a nightmare, Scott," Logan said carefully, not wanting him to snap his eyes open and incinerate the bedroom.

The boy didn’t even hear him, just flopped back on the bed and continued to dream. He lay limp now, tangled up in blankets and covered in sweat.

Why did this kid inspire such feelings of pity in him? It was worse than dealing with Rogue.

He got up from the floor and went to the bed, straightening out the covers until Scott was free. The boy’s face was still screwed up in struggle, his breathing still erratic. Logan sighed and slipped in between the sheets, extending a comforting hand. "You’re going to be okay, Scott. I’m going to see you through it… I gave my word."

Almost instantly the boy melded to his side, sighing softly as his head found the hollow between Logan’s neck and shoulder.

Logan froze. Sudden movement could make Scott open his eyes and shoot him with beams of intense fire. Slowly backing away could mean that the kid would continue to fret all night. And staying… staying would mean—

"Jean," Scott murmured, snuggling closer.

Logan let out the breath he had been holding. Perhaps he should just cut the kid a break. It was 4 o’clock in the fucking morning, he was tired and sore from sleeping on the floor and for fuck’s sake, it’s not like the kid really bothered him. It was actually nice to have someone to hold like this.

"Just great. Wherever you are, Jean, you owe me big time," he grumbled to the silent room. Closing his eyes, he could feel himself sink into the linen sheets, his body adapting to Scott’s, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm until sleep crept upon him.

By morning the younger of the X-Men had slipped off to his own room, only the indentation on the pillow indicated his presence had ever been there. Logan could smell the boy’s sweat and vodka, and something softer, when he woke.

Neither of them spoke about it. Classes resumed as usual and when they had to be in the same room, Scott avoided eye contact at all costs. Logan decided to cut the kid some slack, and only stole his car twice that week.

~*~

It had been four days since the morning that Scott had woken up in Logan’s bed. Sunlight had filtered in through the curtains; Scott felt its warm caress on his face, and reached up to shield his eyes instinctively. Then he realized his shades were off. And he was in another man’s arms.

Choking back panic, he groped blindly around the bed, his hands sliding up muscles that could only belong to someone as strong as Wolverine, until finally he discovered the shades on the nightstand. He put them on and twisted to see the man in the bed next to him, when Logan snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

His muscles hurt from holding himself so rigidly. Logan’s lips were a mere inch away from his neck, warm breath puffing against his sensitive skin. He swallowed. What the fuck had happened last night? Blood pulsed in his ears as he assessed the situation. Thank God, he was still clothed! So maybe he just passed out and Logan brought him here. He couldn’t imagine how he got into this mess, but he swore he would never drink again.

As cautious as a thief in the night, Scott disentangled himself from Logan’s grip, picked up his boots and made to leave. He chanced a last look, saw the morning sun on Logan’s face—how innocent and kind he looked in sleep. Perhaps Logan was more human than he made himself out to be...

He reflected on the memory of Logan’s face that morning, as he padded his way to the kitchen. A little past midnight, and the forth night in a row with no sleep. Pretty soon he’d be too tired to teach class, too tired to even do even simple things like drive or operate a stove. He was bone-weary and in need of a drink.

He turned on the light—and gaped to find Wolverine there in the dark, in full uniform, sitting patiently on the stool behind the counter.

"Logan? What are you doing here? I thought you were on a mission."

"Finished early."

"Oh."

The older man didn’t speak for a long time and an uneasy silence thickened the air between them. Then he held up a half-empty vodka bottle. "Looking for this?"

Scott fought the urge to hang his head. "Couldn’t sleep."

"Wonder what we’re going to do about that."

He looked up. Wolverine was looking at him funny, almost like prey. He couldn’t suppress a shiver. "What do you propose?" Scott watched warily as Wolverine got up and approached. "You plan on just knocking me out?"

Wolverine had completely invaded his personal space. "Now there’s a good idea. I knew you must get one of those every so often."

Scott folded his arms, more to secure his space than to convey his annoyance. "Mind telling me what you’re thinking of?"

Logan hid the bottle back in Scott’s hiding place behind the fridge, cupped his elbow and led Scott out of the kitchen. He let himself be herded only so far, then pulled his arm away. "I can walk on my own."

"I’m so proud of you, priss." Wolverine put a hand on the small of his back, guiding him down the hallways until they reached the older man’s Spartan room. Logan opened the door and waited for Scott to go first.

"Why did you--"

A calloused hand went over Scott’s mouth. "We’re going to get along so much better if you learn not to talk so much." He sauntered through the door and began undressing, first taking off his gloves, then unbuttoning his collar. He turned and waited, looking at Scott over his shoulder. "Well, one-eye?"

Scott realized what he meant and helped lower the zipper on Wolverine’s uniform. Every inch of parted leather revealed more of Logan’s sculpted back. Scott stood there stupidly as Logan undressed down to his boxers and casually draped his clothes on a chair.

"What are--"

"Scott. Stop talking. Get into bed."

The words steamrolled over him. "Logan. Look, man. I… Logan, I’m not… you’re a very attractive man and all--"

"Scott." Wolverine growled, a real, feral growl. "If you finish that sentence I will beat you to death with your own severed arm. I’m not after your ass. Now, shut up, strip, and get into bed."

"But why--"

In a second, Logan was beside him, popping open the buttons of his skirt and ripping off his belt before Scott knew what hit him. He stood there in shock as Logan divested him of his clothing, even helped step out of his pants, until he was left shivering and tittering in front of the older man.

"Get in bed."

Feeling suddenly very naked and very much outmatched in strength, Scott went to the bed and crawled underneath the cool covers. The fresh linen felt good against his skin. Logan slipped in next to him and faced away from him.

He stared at Logan’s back. "I don’t get it."

Logan sighed in exasperation. "You’re tired. You’re missing Jean. Your bedroom reeks of her, you can’t sleep there. You can’t sleep alone. My room is like… like neutral territory. Your brain can shut off here. If you’d shut up and go to sleep, that is."

He had no idea what to say. Logan was offering him shelter from his sorrow, but the circumstances were so odd. He opened his mouth to thank the older man.

"If you say thank you, or anything else about your feelings, or try and hug me or something… severed arm, death."

Incensed, Scott smacked his head on the pillow and covered himself with the blankets. In no time at all, though, he was asleep, lulled by the other man’s even breathing and the soft cotton pillow that smelled like rain…

The next morning, he woke to find his head nestled on Logan’s chest, the soft hair on the other’s man’s pectorals tickling his cheek. A strong arm hooked around his waist, holding him as if he were a woman. Disturbing, how comforting that felt. Still, he hadn’t slept this well since… actually, he had never slept this well.

On some basic level, he knew he could trust Logan. He knew he could completely relax, because Wolverine would always have everything under tight control. Meaning Scott could let down his guard and surrender. Could be human.

He pulled gingerly away, not wanting to wake the other man, and tugged on his clothes. His shirt was missing some buttons. As he zipped up his pants he heard Logan whisper, "Leaving so soon, lover? And without saying goodbye?"

Scott whirled around, heat painting his cheeks. "Asshole," he hissed.

Logan cracked open an eye. "Touchy, touchy, priss. You get your feathers ruffled easier in the morning, I see."

Scott pulled down the sleeves of his shirt and bolted across the room. "Fuck you." He slammed the door on his way out.

~*~

That was a stupid thing to say. He couldn’t just let the kid slink off and keep his dignity. Nope, he had to open his mouth and get in a good sting. He wasn’t sure why baiting the boy made him so happy; but suddenly it wasn’t so fun anymore. Scott had turned three different colors of red between the chair and door, and he could tell he’d hit a nerve.

He had to find him, sort it out. Next thing he knew, Scott would be back on the bottle and the whole team would suffer. Not to mention, he’d be breaking his promise to look after him.

He searched the house, the schoolrooms, the grounds, finally finding the younger man under a car, tinkering away with the radio on. NSync. Maybe Scott was gay after all and should just stop kidding himself. But Logan bit his tongue. Quietly he approached, creeping up until he stood directly over the boy’s legs.

"Hey, one-eye."

Scott banged his head on something underneath the car. "Ouch! What the fuck?"

"You know, you better watch your mouth there. This is a school, you know."

Scott wheeled himself from underneath the car, sliding on the dolly only to earn himself a nice view of Logan’s crotch. Logan didn’t move; didn’t so much as twitch. He just stood there watching the blush creep into the boy’s cheeks. Interesting.

"What do you want?"

"Mission. Professor’s orders. You and me, kid."

Scott put a firm hand on Logan’s right leg and pushed him away enough so that he could stand and look the taller man in the eye. "I’m not a kid. What’s the mission?"

"We have to go pick something up. Can this thing drive?"

He could swear the boy was glaring at him, if he could only see his eyes. "Yes, after making the trip all the way back from Boston," and here the kid bared his teeth, "I’ve been tuning it up. It can go."

"Good, let’s get to it." He held out his hand for the keys, knowing it would annoy Scott to no end.

"I don’t think so."

"No?" Logan shrugged, pretending nonchalance. "But since I’m the only one who knows where we’re going, I guess you’ll have to follow my lead." He reached up to wipe some grime off Scott’s face, but the boy caught his forearm. "You’ve got some dirt on your face," he explained.

"I suspect I’ll survive." The boy’s voice was tight, strong. Good, maybe he would be more like his old self.

"I’m the one who has to look at you." Not that that was a hardship. He made his way to the passenger seat. "Come on."

Scott kicked the dolly away and put some tools to the side. He hopped in the car and looked over at Logan. "Seatbelt?"

"No, thanks."

Scott just kept looking at him. Finally he rolled his eyes and put the stupid contraption on. "Happy?"

"Thrilled. Couldn’t have anything unfortunate happen to you."

Logan snickered. "Have you forgotten my bones are covered in adamantium? You could run me over with the friggin’ car and I’d be fine."

Scott adjusted his mirrors. "I guess I just like the thought of you strapped in, lover," he said, pure venom dripping from his lips.

Logan raised an eyebrow but could think of nothing to say. Was Scott flirting with him? Did Logan want him to?

"Where are we going?" the boy asked.

"Out past the gates, make a left, then take the second right."

Scott nodded and put the car in gear. Along the way, Logan fiddled with all the dials—especially the radio—until Scott’s lower lip twitched almost constantly. The boy grit his teeth when Logan chose a heavy metal station.

"Left."

"What is it we’re supposed to go and get?"

"Top secret."

"Logan!" Scott shouted incredulously. "I’m your teammate! I’ve been in X-Men long before you have! What do you mean--"

"I mean it’s a need-to-know basis kind of thing, Scott. Make a right at that light."

Scott settled more firmly in his seat, his lips pressed in a thin, white line. Logan could barely contain his glee. He looked out the window to hide his smile. "You know, things would go so much better for you if you’d learn to relax and not be so uptight all the time. Learn to trust people."

"Like the way you’re trusting me with this need-to-know crap?"

"Pull into this place up here."

"You mean the McDonald’s?"

"Yeah. What we’re going for is in there."

Scott turned into the parking lot. "Are we meeting someone?"

"At the drive thru. Roll down your window and I’ll say the magic words."

Scott nodded and pulled up swiftly, lowering the window all business-like. "Go ahead."

Logan leaned across the boy and shouted into the speaker. "Yeah I’d like two number ones, super size for one and medium size for the other. Two cokes. Apple pie."

"That’ll be $9.63; drive around."

Logan straightened up and nodded for Scott to proceed.

"So that was the code? What’s going to be in the bags? Is it new technology? Plans for something? A communication device or something? It’s not like the Professor to keep things so secretive--"

"Scott. Shut up."

The boy shut his mouth and drove to the pick-up window, handing Logan the bag and drinks with piqued curiosity. "Now what?"

"Pull over there."

Scott parked and stared at Logan. Logan rummaged through the bag. "Yep, it’s all here. Now you let me drive."

"What? Why?"

Logan shot him a look.

"Fine. Fine! But when all this is over, I’m having a talk with the Professor about this! I’m team leader after all." Scott pouted, quite sweetly Logan thought, and handed over the keys. Logan grinned, got out, and they switched places.

"Here, take this. Don’t look at it. Just hold it safe, okay?"

"Okay," Scott agreed. "Now where?"

Logan adjusted the seat to fit his longer legs. "Home. A different way."

Scott looked behind him. "You think we’re being followed?"

"Always possible." Logan slammed into gear and peeled out of the parking lot, making Scott clutch the drink-tray and bag.

"Hey! I don’t have my belt on!"

"Well, I’ve never been that into strapping my partners in, but if you insist… lover…" Logan graced Scott with a smirk and wove recklessly in and out of traffic on purpose.

"Holy shit," Scott exhaled, managing the seatbelt with one hand and the goods in the other.

Logan cranked up the volume and took the curvy side-streets back to the school, never going below 80 mph when possible. By the time they pulled back into the garage, Scott’s hair was standing on end and he looked like he might lose his lunch.

"Did we shake them?"

Logan shrugged. "Don’t think we were being followed."

"Then why did you--"

"Your car has good pick up for a priss-mobile. Come on."

Logan watched Scott get out of the vehicle and struggle to get his land-legs back, then they went inside. Logan led the boy down to the teacher’s lounge and indicated he should sit at one of the large tables.

He pulled out two big Macs, one super size fry and one medium size fry—pointedly putting the medium size fries in front of Scott—and set the apple pie between them. "Desert."

"Where’s the secret stuff?"

Logan blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"The stuff the Professor asked us to get. Where is it?"

"In front of you."

"But this is just a cheeseburger and some fries!" Scott whined.

"Yeah." Logan sat down and took a huge bite of his burger.

Scott shook with rage. "You’re telling me the Professor told you to go get a cheeseburger and some fries?"

"No, he said go get some lunch. I decided on the menu selection. Figured you hadn’t eaten too, by the looks of things. You’re getting scrawny, priss."

"Logan! I never--"

"What? I even let you drive part of the way?" Logan spread his hands up as if a martyred saint, well, a martyred saint with each hand full of cheeseburger and Coke, loving the sudden appearance of veins Scott’s forehead and neck.

"You… you… you!" Scott sputtered.

"Sit down and eat, small fry."

Scott hurled a handful of fries at Logan. "You asshole!"

Logan grinned and nodded. "Guilty as charged. But I bet you haven’t had this much excitement in weeks, though."

Scott stared at him, rigid as a pole, then a slow smile threatened to lift the corners of his mouth. It tugged at his lips, until he was grinning. "You really had me going. I guess I’ve read too many comic books in my youth. I thought we had some sort of underground Mutant operation at McDonald’s."

Logan shrugged. "Prolly do. It would take a Mutant to eat what’s on the dollar menu and survive." He shoved some fries in his face to keep from laughing outright, and watched Scott take a few bites of his sandwich. "Good?"

"Mm," Scott moaned, bliss etching on his features. Logan swallowed thickly. "I haven’t eaten in… days, it seems."

Three days to be exact. Logan had watched him carefully the last four days, waiting for signs of Scott’s breakdown. He knew he had to get the kid to eat and sleep, but traditional methods wouldn’t work. So he looked on it as kind of a challenge.

They ate in silence, Logan breaking the pie in two and sliding the bigger half towards Scott.

"Didn’t figure you had a sweet tooth," Scott said, his mouth full. Logan watched him dab the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He didn’t really want to think about why seeing that made him hard.

"There’s a lot about me you don’t know."

"Really? Enlighten me."

Logan shook his head. "Nut-uh. You gotta work for it."

"What do you mean?"

He looked at Scott, wishing he could penetrate those shades and see into the boy’s eyes. "I mean, forced intimacy is an ugly thing. You want to know about me, you’re going to have to stick around and figure it out."

Scott nodded, back to being serious. "When I first came here, people were nice to me. But eventually, they stopped hanging around me. Couldn’t look me in the eye, see? Couldn’t tell if I was being serious, or upset, or making fun of them."

"So now you’re serious all the time," Logan said, mostly to himself.

Scott nodded. "Eventually they stopped trying to get to know me… Jean, she always saw past that. Her telepathy let her see inside me, I guess. It was hard to express…" he trailed off.

"Yeah, she was good at that. But you do all right, priss." Logan sat up, hunched over the table, leaning on his elbows. "I mean, anyone can see what you’re feeling if they read your body right."

Scoot looked up at him. He could tell the kid was going to say something embarrassing or sugary-warm-fuzzy-sweet, so he cleared his throat. "Not to kill the Hallmark moment, but speaking of your body…"

The boy tensed, both of their thoughts snapping back to Logan’s comment this morning. "Yeah?"

"I need…" Logan mumbled into his chest.

"Excuse me?"

"Rogue’s coming-out ball is this week. You know. That thing they do in the South, where a belle comes out officially and everything? You know, she’s reached that age and Storm and Professor think she deserves a birthday party…Sort of to remind her of home…"

"Yeah, I know. I was invited too, Logan."

"Yeah… Well, um… The thing of it is…" He shifted in his seat, looking anywhere but Scott. "Rogue asked me to dance with her, see?"

Scott nodded. "Marie seems quite taken with you."

"She’s a good kid," he insisted, perhaps a bit too adamantly. "But she doesn’t like being called Marie."

"Fine, Rogue it is, then. How does this involve my body?" Scott pressed.

Logan fought his blush with every fiber of his being. "Well, I… don’t know how to dance. I mean, of course I don’t know how to dance, I’m not a--" Scott raised a sardonic eyebrow, "—um… dancer." Logan took a deep breath. "Jean once told me you were great at it. I thought maybe…"

"Yes?" Scott gave a half smile.

"I thought maybe you could…"

"Yes?"

He pushed away from the table. "Never mind, stupid idea."

Scott gripped his forearm tightly. "I’d love to teach you, if you want." They stared at each other, frozen for a moment until Scott dropped his arm. "But you’d have to be willing to really work, and follow my lead."

Logan folded his arms across his chest, a little chagrined at losing contact with Scott’s warm hand. "Your lead? I have no interest in learning the girl’s part, priss."

Scott nodded, standing as well. "True. But since I’m the only one that knows the steps, I guess you’ll have to relax and trust me."

"Fine," he growled. At least the boy was showing an interest in something. "When do you want to start?"

"The ball is in a week, right? We better start tomorrow. We’ll meet when the kids have lunch." Scott cocked his head to the side, thinking. "We can use the great hall. One of the rooms should be free, and we can work alone."

"Yeah, okay," he said sullenly, hoping the boy wasn’t expecting thanks. They looked at each other, the breeze turning chilly as the sun began its descent. "See you later, then." Logan stalked off, leaving the boy to clean up the mess.

~*~

Another sleepless night. How quiet the school was at night; the walls reverberated even the tiniest sounds of his slippers along the hallway. Into the kitchen again, in search of his vodka. He was relieved that Logan wasn’t there this time.

He pulled the bottle from behind the fridge and went in search of a glass. For a long time he stared at the bottle, thinking about the uncanny events that unfolded this afternoon. Annoying and aggravating as Logan was, Scott had had fun today. It was nice to talk to someone, even if they weren’t very sensitive or refined.

In fact, it was getting harder and harder to talk with the Professor, or Storm, or anyone with enough social grace to pity him. Their sad gazes choked him, repeatedly reminded him of what he had lost. Logan didn’t give him time to think about anything but the present.

He looked down at the bottle again, watching his hands shake. He needed a drink badly. He needed it. And that terrified him.

Putting the glass in the sink, he opened the bottle, pouring the rest of the liquor into the drain. Throwing the bottle into the trashcan, he turned off the light, heading for Logan’s room.

The door snicked open slightly and he stuck his head in, peering at the outline of the man’s form in the dark. Suddenly Logan lifted his hand, holding up the covers. Scott said nothing, climbing underneath and snuggling into the pillow. Logan didn’t touch him, didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

The next morning he slipped out from underneath Logan’s arm and left quietly, knowing that Logan was awake, knowing that Logan let him go without comment this time.

If only he had been that agreeable for the rest of the day, Scott mused…

"No. You step forward on the two, not the one."

Logan grimaced. "Who invented this? It’s stupid not to start on a one. One is the start of things."

"Look, I didn’t invent the dance, I am just telling you how it goes. If you start on the one you’ll be off with the music."

"It would be nice if we had some music."

"You have to learn the steps first."

"Fine."

Scott chuckled. "You know, you look like a little kid when you pout."

Logan’s eyes flashed. "Yeah? You look like a little kid all the time, you priss. Hey," he asked excitedly, "what if I was to start counting the two as the one? In my head. You know like instead of one TWO three, it could be ONE two three but the one would be on the two?"

Scott cocked his head to the side. "I have no idea what you just said but if it means you’ll stop stepping on my feet, then yes."

"Okay. Come here again."

"Present again."

Logan sighed but offered out a hand; Scott took it and they locked into their frame. Slowly Logan went through the steps, all the while looking down, his brows knit together.

"You’re doing well. You’ve got a good frame."

"Thanks."

"That way even if Rogue doesn’t know the steps, you’ll be able to lead her." Scott watched as Logan nodded, his tongue flicking out as he concentrated harder. "But you’ve got to look up at her. It won’t do to stare at her feet and stick your tongue out."

"Huh?" Logan sported an endearing expression, and Scott cupped his chin and positioned his head.

"Relax. You don’t have to be perfect, just be... confident. I know you can do that. It’s like when we spar. Your body is used to doing remarkable things. Once you get the steps down, you’ll be smooth as ice."

"Smooth as ice," Logan repeated, swirling them around the floor.

"Ah!"

"Sorry!"

Scott bit his lip and tried to ignore the pain shooting through his toes. "You take big steps, but Rogue is a little lady. Try taking smaller steps, holding her closer."

"Like this?" Logan put a hand on his hip and guided him close enough to have their breaths mingle, Scott’s body instantly becoming aware of the sudden proximity.

"Yes," he breathed. "Just don’t let the arms get sloppy."

"Right. Again?"

"You’re the leader."

Logan shook his head slightly. "Yeah but…"

"What?"

"Seems to me that you have plenty of control as well."

"Not while dancing, Logan. I mean, I do now because I’m telling you how to move. But if this were the real dance floor, you’d make all the decisions. I’d have absolutely no say."

"And women… like this?"

Scott shrugged. "Maybe not the giving up control part. But it’s beautiful… when two bodies move in tandem, like one, totally in sync, duende…"

"Duende?" Logan peered at him.

"It’s like being a in a zone, where you’re linked…"

"I think I’ll settle for not stepping on your toes."

"Amen." The smiled at each other. "You’re getting good at this."

"Always been a fast learner. I think I got the steps, but, why do I feel like you’re out of time with me?"

"Hang on." Scott walked over to the stereo and put on some music. It filled the hall, and he noticed Logan look around sheepishly, nervous they might be found out. He turned the music down and walked back over to his partner.

"I’m going to drape my arm over yours. This will connect us no matter what. Where your arm goes, I go. So I will always be on your time."

Logan nodded, biting his tongue again. Scott reached up and pushed it back in his mouth playfully. "And one, TWO, three."

The whirled and spun for more than an hour, oblivious to when the bell rang to signal lunch was over. They only stopped when a student popped her head in.

"Um…" she said.

Logan froze just as he dipped Scott, hovering him two feet from the floor. Scott was afraid Logan would drop him, but instead he was jerked up and set on his feet with a thump. "We were just--"

"Is this a new dance class?"

"Class?" Logan asked. She giggled and disappeared down the hall.

"Shit! My class!" Scott wriggled out of Logan’s hold and gathered up his things. "Sorry, Logan. You were doing great but…"

"Maybe later. Tomorrow."

"Yeah. Hey, keep practicing by yourself if you want."

Logan nodded. "Get to class, priss. I’ll manage."

~*~

That night Logan couldn’t fall asleep until he heard the familiar snick of the door and watched the hallway light flood briefly into his room. He didn’t move as Scott got under the covers, but his eyes opened when the boy put a hand on his arm.

"You did really well today."

"Thanks," he said into the darkness. "Good teacher."

"I know you’re going to make Rogue so happy."

"She’s a good kid," he said.

"Uh huh," Scott agreed, sleepiness edging on the timbre of his voice. Logan could feel the soft hair of the boy’s bangs brush his arm.

"Get some sleep. We have a sparring session tomorrow, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Scott sighed. "I forgot."

"I intend to kick your ass." Logan let some affection creep out while he said that.

"I already know your evil plan. You’re going to step on my toes until I die."

He laughed, hugging the boy close and turning his face so that he could feel the top of Scott’s head on his chin. He waited until Scott’s body melted into sleep, then he allowed himself to do the same.

~*~

The Danger Room at the Xavier school was impressive, to say the least. Students were not allowed into the room he and Scott were using today; the sharp swords and array of exotic weapons might prove too tempting for young, unskilled hands. 

Logan paced silently across the mats, waiting. A moment later Scott pushed open the door, bowed gracefully and in a quiet voice said, "Sorry I'm late."

Logan bowed with a straight back. "Bet you had your reasons, priss."

"I was helping Storm reorganize the database in the library---ooof!"

Scott squinted up at Logan from his place on the floor, his arms pinned at weird angles underneath the taller man's weight.

"Is this part of the ass-kicking you were talking about last night?"

Logan nodded, gripped the boy's shirt and hulled him up. "It's not enough to just shoot fire beams from your eyeballs, kid. Eventually you're going to have to learn how to fight."

"Logan," Scott said softly, removing his hand from the grip on Scott's shirt. "I'm not a child, and I know how to fight."

Logan raised a challenging eyebrow. "I'm waiting to be impressed." His legs buckled underneath him suddenly and he found himself on his back, this time with Scott pinning his arms. 

"How's that?"

Logan grunted, rolled and tried to pin Scott again but the boy bounded away. He smiled. Pursuit was one of his strong points. He ran after Scott and landed a sweet blow to the boy's chest, knocking him back against the wall. Scott didn't stop to lick his wounds however, and returned with a swift kick to his kidneys.

Writhing on the floor, Logan gave a dramatic moan and collapsed. He waited patiently and in a few seconds Scott was at his side, a gentle hand on his back. 

"Logan?"

He elbowed Scott in the gut. "Your problem, Summers, is that you fight well, but fair."

"Fucking asshole," Scott hissed, gingerly rubbing his ribs.

"That's not a nice thing to say, priss."

Cool, metallic shades fixed on him. "I fight fair because I'm one of the X-Men, and we have standards."

"Yeah, well, I'm in X-Men too and I only have one standard: stay alive."

They circled each other, sweating, intense, both determined to win the match.

"So you'd live at any price, Logan?"

"I didn't say that."

"You said--"

"Kid, stop quoting me and come over here. I'm not done mopping the floor with you."

Scott grimaced. "You are such a pompous ass. I'm going to enjoy teaching you humility."

"Oooh," he mocked, "Priss grows a spine."

They went at each other with various martial styles, Scott leaping and flying through the air, Logan preferring to use his fists whenever possible. By some unspoken code, he kept his claws in and Scott never opened fire. 

Half an hour into it they were both breathing heavy, dripping with sweat and near exhaustion, but neither was willing to give up and tap the mat. 

"I'm actually surprised you're this good, priss. You seemed the willowy, light-in-the-boots type."

Scott whacked him across the face and followed through with a nice kick to his shins. "There's a lot about me you don't know."

Logan sprung up and landed a jab to Scott's jaw, then they traded blows until Scott's lip was bleeding and his own eyes were almost swollen shut. Of course, Logan’s wounds healed almost instantly, and Scott’s did not.

Finally Logan just launched his full body weight at Scott and trapped him on the floor, one hand holding both of Scott's wrists, the other pinning his thigh up and over Logan's hip. He waited for the boy to use his knuckles to tap out, but the kid just wouldn't quit struggling. 

And then, a faint odor reached Logan's senses. Sweat, cologne… and a trace of arousal. He paused, letting Scott wriggle, and then stilled when he recognized the boy's hardening erection.

"Apparently there really is a lot about you I don't know," he whispered, lowering his face closer to Scott's.

"Let me go," Scott growled, baring his teeth. The split lip bled out just enough to paint Scott's mouth an enticing red.

"Tap out."

"I can't tap out, you ape; you've got my hands!"

"Oh, so I do." Logan enjoyed the boy's frustration, pressing the boy’s jutting cock against the flat of his pelvic bone. "Guess you'll just have to ask nice, then."

Scott started, realization dawning across his face as Logan ground down ever so slightly. His cheeks burned a red that reached to his ears and neck. He gulped; Logan watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. "Get off me."

Scott's voice sent a chill down Logan's spine. He released the boy's leg, but kept a hold of his hands. The boy was trembling in anger and the scent of his desire grew thick. Logan wasn't sure how he felt about this, but he knew he didn't want to let Scott go. Scott brought out the protective streak in him, but now possessiveness and desire added to the mix, making Logan heady with need for... something more.

He stared at Scott, who remained frozen to the ground, trembling in his arms. Those brows knit in frustration, every muscle in his body tense. A trickle of red blood now fully coated the kid's succulent lower lip. He was really quite beautiful, even in distress. 

"Stop it, Logan!"

He snapped back to reality, realizing his mouth was mere inches above the boy's. He let up, pushed off the ground and stood a good few feet away from the kid. Scott got up slowly, his cheeks still blushing furiously. 

Neither of them had a clue what to say. Eventually the boy just shook his head, turned around and walked out.

"Scott--" Logan called after him, having no clue what to say. Perhaps it was best to let the kid go. But then things would never be right between them again. He deliberated for two or three minutes, wondering what the hell he was going to do, then gave up and decided to just improvise. 

Logan followed Scott's scent into the locker room, paused at the entrance to the showers. He took a deep breath.

"Scott." He could hear his voice bounce off the tiled walls, hear the boy move under the stream of water.

"Go away, Logan."

Shoulders set back, he stepped into the men's shower stall and paused at the sight of Scott's gorgeous naked back. Delectable ass. Hm, apparently his beast was interested in Scott, even if he himself couldn’t remember prior interest in men.

"What part of go away don't you understand?" The boy sighed, refusing to look at him. "Look, it's no big deal, all right? It happens in wrestling all the time."

"Oh, I would know more about that than you, priss," Logan said, chancing a few steps closer. Scott still wouldn’t look at him and it was driving him crazy.

"Right. It was just a normal reaction to the stimulus of touch. Nothing to make a big deal out of. Now, can I take a shower in peac--"

Scott stammered when Logan rested his hands on the wall, one on each side of Scott’s head, effectively framing the boy in his embrace. The kid just stood there, facing the wall, shivering. 

"How long has it been since anyone has touched you, Scott?" he asked in a low voice. "Even yourself?"

The younger man swallowed. "It's not appropriate--"

"How long?" Logan demanded, pressing forward until his chest covered the boy's back.

"I don't know," the kid whispered. "Not since Jean."

Logan closed his eyes, resting his chin on Scott's shoulder. "Too long."

Scott jolted when he trailed a hand down the boy's side. "Logan!"

"Don't tell me you don't want this, Summers. You forget, I can smell you. I can tell what you want before you can even think it."

Scott shook violently, even under the stream of warm water. "Your clothes are getting wet," the kid observed absently.

"Don't care," he whispered, pressing his lips to Scott's shoulder.

"This is wrong."

"Don't care." Logan dribbled tiny kisses up Scott's neck, biting down hard when the boy leaned back.

"Ugn. Don't--"

He sucked sharply at the cords in Scott's neck, his hand trailing down the front of the younger man's chiseled abdomen. The kid was such a skittery thing; his instincts told him he would have to go slowly.

"Logan," the boy panted, his name barely audible over the shower. When the kid tilted his head, Logan took it as acceptance and began a tender assault on Scott's ear. Judging from the gasps, the kid enjoyed it. 

The scent and the noises Scott made, just from something this simple, spiked his own desire. He wanted to press his throbbing erection into Scott's back, wanted to feel the swell of those buttocks rub against his cock. But he couldn't push the kid too far just yet. His hand trailed lower and slowly, deftly, cupped the boy's hard shaft.

"I'm going to touch you now," he whispered into the kid's ear, smiling softly when the boy pitched forward and cried out. He fisted the boy's flesh in a lazy rhythm, feeding off the desperate chortles and moans. "Scott, stop fighting it. You know you need this."

Finally the kid just melted against him, resting his hands on either side of Logan's biceps, his hips thrusting forward every once in a while. 

"Is it good?" Logan murmured, not really expecting Scott to answer.

"Yeah." Scott turned his head, nuzzled his cheek against Logan's chin. A funny sort of thrill leapt through his veins when the kid did that.

"How do you like it, Scott? Harder? Faster?"

"Ugn! Damn you!"

Every few seconds Scott cursed or gasped, and Logan would reward him by tightening his grip. When the kid's fingernails began scratching and digging into the skin under his arms, Logan sped up the pace, stroking his palm and fingers over Scott's cock rapidly until the boy finally groaned and came all over his hand and the wall. Then he had to hold the younger man up, or Scott would have puddled onto the floor.

When his breathing returned to normal, Scott turned around and rested his forehead on Logan's shoulder, his arms coming around Logan's waist in a lose hug. 

"Oh, God. That shouldn't have happened."

Logan cleared his throat. "I make it a point not to have regrets."

Scott nodded, not lifting his head from Logan's shoulder. "Yeah, well, that's you."

Logan just held the boy, watching the steam rise around them, watching the beads of water form and then fall off the kid's shoulders. He ran the tips of his fingers up and down Scott's spine, not really sure why he was being so gentle, when normally he would have just thrown Scott up against the wall and taken his pleasure. 

"You gonna be all right, kid?" 

Scott took deep breaths. Finally he peered up at him, more in control. "Did you mean it?"

Logan stared. "Mean what?"

Scott ducked his head away. "You said I was beautiful, in the Danger Room. Is that why you--"

Logan brushed his lips over Scott's mouth, licking at the last traces of blood before pressing down firmly. The kiss was sweet, very tentative, Scott's head tilting back and forth to follow his lead. He pulled away, teasing Scott's broken lower lip out slightly before completely disengaging. 

"You talk too much, priss," Logan said with a shit-eating grin, then turned and walked—fully-clothed, hard, and dripping wet--out of the men's showers. Leaving Scott to brace himself on the tile wall.

~*~

Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the fuck just happened? Logan followed him into the showers, pressed him up against a wall and jerked him off. Even in his wildest dreams he could never have imagined that would happen to him. He was straight! A married... widowed... man for God's sake!

So why then was that the most satisfying sex of his entire life?

Fuck!

Scott banged his head against the wall, letting the water pulse over his face. Logan had smelled so good… been so strong and sure behind him… holding him up... stroking him softly, then brutally. A man's touch. So different from Jean. 

How did he know just where Scott liked to be stroked, kissed? How did he know just what to say? Why did they fit together so perfectly, when they were complete opposites? The only thing they had in common was being part of the X-Men and loving Jean. And… they both were male, of course. 

Scott groaned and held his head in his hands. Why did life have to get so much more complicated right now? He was barely hanging by a thread as it was! Now this!

Does it feel good, he'd asked. How do you like it? God. Disgustingly perverse, common. Why was that brute so damned sexy?

Scott could feel himself harden again at the memory of Logan's fingers forming a ring around the head of his cock and pulling harshly up and down his shaft. Peeking out from under the shower to make sure he was alone, Scott gripped his newfound erection and mimicked Logan's touch. He gasped. Jean had never done it like this to him. It was so sinfully good. 

He braced one hand on the wall and began stroking himself faster and faster, digging into the cave of his memory for Logan's scent, Logan's gruff voice behind him. Is it good? Is it good? 

"God, yes." 

What would it be like to have Logan press in on him from behind? What would that cock feel like when not encased in denim? To feel Logan's thick, heavy prick brush the cleft of his ass.

"Ah."

What would it feel like, if Logan fucked him up against this wall, like some common whore, like a slave… like a lover? Logan. He could hear himself panting over the stream of the shower, looked down and could see his shaft swell with blood, feel his balls tighten a second time. Would Logan want to watch him like this? What would this do to Logan?

Picturing the older man stroking himself, he came again, spurting hot come over his hand, coating the wall a second time. He crouched down, gulping air, letting the cooling water wash him off. 

Only then did it occur to him that Logan had never bothered to relieve himself. 

~*~

Well past midnight and no sign of Scott. Logan hated to admit it, but he was worried he'd gone too far and the boy would never speak to him again. Had he broken his promise to Jean, or kept it? Scott needed to be touched, was desperate for affection. Logan could sense the longing boiling just underneath the boy's surface. But was it his place to give Scott what he needed?

Logan stared up at the ceiling and thought for a long time. There were many qualities about Scott that reminded him of Jean; he was cultured, gentle, refined. He was caring, considerate. In touch with his feelings. Everything Logan could never be. Even as Cyclops, Scott always held himself in check. It was all Wolverine could do to keep the beast within him leashed. 

It was insane to think either of them could find solace or companionship in each other's arms. Yet, these past few nights... Scott had fit so perfectly, filled a void.

Roughly he turned on his side and beat his pillow, determined to kill these sappy, needy thoughts. He was worse than a woman! He closed his eyes, tried to sleep, tried to banish the sight of Scott impassioned, wet… coming.

The door snicked open. Logan opened his eyes but remained still; he could tell from the cologne that it was Scott. Without hesitation the boy climbed into bed and pressed up behind him, resting his chin on Logan’s shoulder.

He decided to play it cool. "You're late again, priss. Second time in one day."

Scott kissed his shoulder. "Maybe I can make it up to you," he whispered seductively, shooting new arousal straight into Logan's already hardening prick.

A thin, graceful hand lightly ran its course over his shoulder, arm, down his ribs, across his belly. He sucked in a breath when it touched him there. 

"My God, Logan," Scott whispered.

He grinned in the darkness and covered Scott's hand with his own. "Impressed?"

"You're huge!" 

Logan turned over on his back and cupped Scott's head. "No need to flatter me, Summers. You're not so small yourself." He pulled the boy down for a kiss, but at the last second chanced his mind and licked the kid's lips and cheek. The hand that explored him flattened, and Scott began to slowly palm his erection.

"Been hard for you all afternoon," Logan murmured, pressing up into Scott's touch.

"Christ, Logan."

He couldn't take it anymore; he pushed Scott back and covered him with his body, kissing every inch of the boy's face and neck. But never touching his lips. Somehow it was important that they never actually kiss. 

"Spread for me," he said in his most commanding voice, knowing instinctively that Scott would enjoy it more if he took charge.

The boy opened his legs, letting Logan nestle in the cradle of his hips. Their cocks now flush against one another, separated only by the thin material of their pajama bottoms, Logan began grinding down in little circles.

"Agh… anh." Scott moaned, his hands traveling down Logan's back to rest on his ass. The boy pulled him closer and Logan had to let out a long breath, gritting his teeth and humping the boy in earnest. Scott hooked his legs behind Logan's, his hands forcing Logan's hips to undulate, his eagerness flooding Logan's senses.

"If you don't slow down, Summers, I'm going to fuck you into the mattress."

Scott froze like a deer in headlights. "Logan?"

"Ah. Yeah?"

"I've never..."

"No shit."

Scott looked away. "I didn't think I was that bad."

Logan gripped the boy's chin and forced him to turn his head back around, then nuzzled the kid's smooth cheek. "Not bad, just… new."

"You've… you've done this before?"

Now it was Logan's turn to hedge. "I don’t remember my past. But it feels… familiar"

"Logan," Scoot whispered, drawing him into a hug.

"Summers, is it built into your system to talk this much, or are you doing it just to annoy me?" Logan said it mostly to cover up the growing awkwardness. 

He expected Scott to launch into another one of his huffy tirades, but instead the boy raised himself up on his elbows and began to kiss Logan's jaw and neck. Little nips, long sexy licks. He let the boy have his way for as long as he could stand it.

Then he weaved his hands through Scott's hair and pulled, exposing the delicate throat. He bit down savagely, content when Scott responded simply by hooking an arm across his shoulders and holding him tight. Mate, his beast thought. Scott would make a very good mate.

He sucked until he was sure Summers was good and marked, then ripped the boy’s nightshirt open and attacked a dusky nipple.

"Shit!" Scott swore into the night, rising up and grasping Logan's head. Long fingers wound around the strands of his hair, massaging, pulling, directing. Logan didn't mind giving up some control; he was happy just to see Scott so impassioned. He let his hands explore the kid, roaming over the crests and valleys of the boy's hips, his supple thighs, reaching around to grip that tight ass.

"God, you have a great ass," he whispered, knowing what words did to Scott.

The boy hissed and bucked up. Logan repositioned them so that Scott had to continually push up to get the most satisfying pressure. 

"Come on, work for it," Logan challenged, contracting his stomach muscles so that the length of his torso rubbed against the length of Scott's cock. "You want it so much, hump me."

Scott proved bolder than Logan expected, planting his heels down on the bed and thrusting up in a steady rhythm to jab his arousal at Logan, who had now worked himself far enough down Scott's body to kiss Scott's belly button. He tongued it, letting Scott rub languidly against him, all the while never relinquishing his hold on the young man.

Scott's fingernails scraped his scalp, urging him on, until Logan reached his pajama bottoms. How much could the kid handle? Best to go very, very slow.

He mouthed the boy's prick through the light material, shaping the kid's heat with his lips and tongue. Soon the material became wet, from Logan's rough licking and from Scott's weeping prick. The boy hummed and gasped every so often, and Logan just couldn't get enough of the mewling sounds.

"You're hot for it, aren't you?"

Scott moaned louder, sitting up to better see Logan kiss and suck at his clothed cock. 

"Aren't you?"

"Yes," Scott hissed.

Logan caressed Scott's balls through the fabric, delighted when Scott's head tumbled back onto the pillow. "What is it you want, Scott?"

"Logan."

"Come on, baby. You're the one that can't stop talking. You're not gonna hold out on me now. Say it. Tell me."

"Uhn. Logan."

"Yeah?"

"Suck me."

Logan kissed Scott's turgid flesh, reveling in the spicy, masculine scent. "Thought you'd never ask."

A sharp splitting noise filled the quiet, and then the tatters of the boy's pants were on the floor. Nothing between his nakedness and Logan but the thick summer air around them. Reminding himself to be patient, Logan stuck out his tongue and licked the mushroomed head of Scott's swollen cock. The boy's body was beautiful, but like this, shivering, naked, straining towards him... the kid was a goddamn siren. 

Logan watched as Scott's fingers twisted in the sheets, gripped at the pillows behind his head, clawed at the headboard, touching anything but Logan himself. He swirled his tongue around the tip, sucked gently, then engulfed Scott in warm, clinging wetness. He had to hold the boy's hips down to keep from choking, but he managed to take him all the way. And then he just did what he knew he himself enjoyed. Apparently they had the same taste, because Scott was damn near writhing off the bed.

"Ugh… Agh. Logan... yes, suck it…. Oh!"

God, but the kid got him hot. Who knew such an uptight little priss like Scott Summers would be such a sweet fuck?

Finally the kid couldn't take it anymore and tangled his hands back in Logan's hair, pressing him down and yanking him up. As punishment, Logan pinched his nipples, but Scott seemed to just revel it. He raked his nails down the boy's abdomen in warning, and Scott just gripped him harder. Finally he swatted at Scott's ass, listened to the boy moan appreciatively and then he realized exactly what kind of partner he had on his hands.

He let go of Scott's cock.

"Don't stop," the boy pleaded. 

Logan quirked an eyebrow. "You giving me orders, Summers?"

"Please don't stop?" The boy pouted, his hand sneaking down to fist his wet cock and pull on the aching flesh. "Ah."

"I don't recall giving you permission to touch yourself, Scott."

The boy froze, then defiantly continued stroking himself. "I don't recall asking for it."

"Oh, priss, I can tell we're going to have a long night," Logan muttered, gripping as much of Scott's ass as he could in one hand and turning the boy over harshly.

"What--"

He smacked Scott — hard — on swell of his right cheek, and listened to the sudden intake of breath as Scott recovered from his shock. He spanked the boy again, this time on the other cheek, and watched in amazement as the boy raised his ass for more. He mounted Scott and began a series of stinging blows, listening intently to the little sobs that bubbled up from his partner so he could map the line between pain and pleasure.

"Oh, Logan," Scott murmured, then bit his forearm. The kid was up on all fours now, thrusting back insistently to meet Logan's punishing hands. "Logan."

Just as suddenly as he began, Logan stopped spanking Scott, watching as the boy's body tensed for whatever was coming next. He smirked. Scott could just keep on guessing, then.

He got on his back and crawled underneath Scott, then put his hands on either of the boy's narrow hips. "Since you've been such a good boy, I'll take you in my mouth again."

Scott whimpered.

"I'll even let you set the pace, Summers, if you promise to stop when I say so. Will you obey me?"

"Yes," Scott's voice was hoarse, ragged, but determined.

"Good boy. Now, fuck my mouth."

Logan guided the kid's prick to his open lips, gingerly took him all the way in and let the kid thrust in and out as he liked, working the back muscles of his throat to accommodate all of him.

"Hmm." Scott rested his full weight on his elbows and began dipping his hips forward with greater enthusiasm. "Fuck."

Tentatively, so as not to startle the boy, he cupped the kid's sweet ass and drew him in deep, then ran a finger up and down his cleft. He traced the rim of Scott's asshole with his forefinger, using his mouth to distract him as much as possible. When he pressed in slightly the boy jolted up, pulling himself from the cavern of Logan's mouth with a pop.

"No!" Scott bolted up and scooted away from him. "No, not that. Not there."

Logan peered at him in the darkness, noted the worry lines on Scott’s forehead, the scent of real fear clinging to his pores. He reached out a hand to steady the kid, not liking the flinch that accompanied his gesture.

"All right. It’s okay, Scott."

"Look, I’m sorry… but…"

Logan held the boy’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I get it."

Scott capitulated forward, diving into Logan’s arms. "I’m just not ready for that… I don’t think I could ever do that."

Logan didn’t say anything; he just ran his hands soothingly up and down Scott’s back. He sighed and kissed the top of Scott’s head. He had been through enough for one day, Logan thought. Better let him take his time.

"I’m really sorry," Scott said softly.

"You don’t have to apologize to me. Ever."

Scott sat up, looking Logan in the eye. "Maybe… maybe I could…"

He smiled reassuringly. "You have my rapt attention."

"Could do what you did to me?"

He settled back against the pillows, letting his voice register at its deepest level. "You mean, maybe you could take my cock in your mouth and suck it?"

The boy closed his eyes and actually shivered. "Yeah."

"Yeah, what?"

"Yeah I could take… your cock in my mouth… and suck it."

Logan pushed his bottoms off in one smooth motion and tossed them on the floor. He traced the pad of his thumb across Scott’s lower lip. "I’m all yours. Do your worst."

Scott kissed his thumb and then edged down his body, taking his purple dick in hand. The boy looked at it for a long time.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Just be mindful of your teeth."

He grinned at Logan. "Don’t you trust me?"

The first few strokes of that little pink tongue made something break inside Logan. Pure ecstasy, the way that boy licked him. Up and down. Up and down. He gripped the headboard and fought for control. Scott’s palms massaged his thighs as the boy bobbed on the end of his prick, the warm suction making him harder than he had been all day.

"That’s it. Scott, yes."

Encouraged, the young man began to milk his cock, taking him deeper, using his lips to create a snug ring around his shaft. What he couldn’t take in his mouth, Scott stroked with his hand. Logan kept his eyes open, watched the younger man concentrate so hard on pleasuring him. For the rest of his life, nothing on earth could be sexier than the sight of the hollows of Scott Summer’s cheeks as the boy nursed his throbbing length.

"Stop."

Scott abandoned his prize instantly. "Did I do something wrong?"

He drew the boy up into his lap. "No. No. You were doing it too well. Gonna be over too soon."

"So? You’re telling me the great Wolverine couldn’t get it up again?"

Logan quirked an eyebrow. "You’ve great expectations, I see."

Scott’s face filled him with dark desire; he could see the boy was so eager for discipline.

"You like it, don’t you? When I do this?" He pinched Scott’s nipple and slapped his ass at the same time—nothing gentle about either touch—and watched, amazed, as Scott gasped and ground his ass over Logan’s cock.

"Mmm." Scott began thrusting back and forth in Logan’s lap, a totally wanton expression etched on his features.

"Put your hands on the headboard. And don’t move them until I say so." Scott did as he was told. "I want you to hold them there, as if you were in chains."

Scott nodded, moaning and rocking more fervently. Logan took hold of the boy’s hips and controlled all the movements, sliding Scott down so that their cocks lined up nicely. He grabbed a handful of Scott’s ass and rolled the muscles in counter circles, forcing Scott to move up and down along his body.

He could feel the strain in the boy, see his arms shake with effort. He licked the sweat off the side of Scott’s face. Without warning, he rained down a battalion of bruising, open-palmed blows, loving the slapping sound of his hand on the boy’s ass. Floodtides broke open in Scott, all inhibition lost, and the boy began thrusting frantically.

"Please… please, Logan, let me move my hands."

"Since you asked so nicely…"

Scott’s hands came down on either side of Logan’s head, affording him better purchase, and the two mashed their hips together in a frenzy. Logan paused in his assault on Scott’s firm ass. "Sit up on me."

Scott obeyed instantly, waiting until Logan took firm hold of his hips before humping Logan’s pulsing cock. Their thrusts were becoming so forceful the bed banged against the wall, but neither of them cared about the noise. Scott lowered himself long enough to bite at Logan’s lips, to whisper, "Feels so good, Logan," and then Logan felt the hot seed splatter on his chest as Scott cried out. Not but a few paces behind, Logan slammed the boy down against his cock and came with a growl, coating Scott’s thighs, chest, face even.

The boy collapsed on him, and they just held onto each other for a few moments.

Eventually Logan opened his eyes to find that Scott had fallen asleep, right there on top of him, covered in their lust. He eased the boy back, then went to his bathroom and rinsed a washcloth in warm water. Not letting himself think too much about what just happened, he went through the motions of cleaning off himself, then wiped Scott off—and there was a lot on Scott to wipe off. Had he ever come so hard in his life?

Scott moaned a little, burrowing into the pillows. Logan threw his washcloth into the trashcan and headed back to bed, sated down to his bones. Scott turned to him, covered him with his younger, slighter body, and Logan couldn’t resist running and hand through the boy’s damp hair. He used his other hand to hold Scott tightly to him, his mind too tired to wonder about the implications of such intimacy, his beast too possessive to be denied.

Scott murmured something in his sleep, and Logan covered them with the blankets and kissed his forehead. Not long after, a deep dreamless sleep came upon him.

~*~

Scott woke up that morning with a sense of dread; worried that the events of last night would change things between them for the worse. But Logan just rolled over, kissed his cheek and groaned happily before sidling out of bed and heading straight for the shower.

They had slept later than usual. Scott didn’t stick around, but slipped into his tattered clothes and practically ran for his room. He barely had time to wash up and slip into a fresh pair of slacks. As he was putting his shirt on, he noticed tiny claw marks across his chest, and the indication of teeth marks around his belly button. And there, right above his shoulders, a fantastic hickey.

"Dammit," he swore under his breath, and dug back through his drawers for a turtleneck. It was the middle of summer, for Christ sakes. He sighed, not really angry. Logan had marked him and it had felt blissful, felt like what he had wanted all along, and that thought was just too scary to follow to the end of its thread.

Instead of lecturing his classes about their reading material, he let them participate in a group discussion. This was because he could barely form a complete sentence, let alone concentrate on the subject at hand. Every time he tried to interject some notion about symbolism or use of metaphor, his mind would inevitably wander back towards last night, towards the feel of Logan’s calloused hands on his skin, the man’s rough cheek against his abdomen… that skillful mouth on his…

"Right, Mr. Summers?"

"Hm? What, Bobby?"

"I said, the author’s saying one thing but hinting at another. You know, like, you gotta learn to read between the lines."

Scott coughed. "Yes, of course, very good. Very good. Um…"

"Are you all right, Mr. Summers?" Marie asked, her eyes searching him.

"Yes. I think I’m just distracted by the heat."

Bobby shifted in his seat. "But… the air conditioning is on."

"Maybe I have a fever." God that sounded lame, even to his own ears.

Bobby smiled cheekily. "You don’t look so good, man. Like, you’re tired. Maybe you should take the day off, go lie down or something. You can dismiss class early. We wont tell."

Scott smiled. "That’s an excellent idea." The class buzzed with excitement. "But it’s not going to happen in your life time. Now, open your books to page 124…"

Scott narrowed his focus down to one thing at a time, the way Jean had taught him in their youth, and he made it through the rest of his classes for that morning. Lunchtime couldn’t have come soon enough; the second the bell rang Scott slammed his book down on the desk before briskly making his way to the great hall.

Logan was already waiting for him, soft music filling the air.

Uncertain, Scott walked slowly over to where the older man stood, placing one foot carefully in front of the other, trying not to seem too eager for his touch. Not that he had to worry about it, because as soon as he was within touching distance Logan swept him into a tight embrace and nuzzled his neck.

"Hmm," Logan grunted, inhaling deep. Scott shivered a little, but returned the hug. "You left early this morning, priss."

"I had class. And don’t call me that." Scott turned his cheek, letting Logan press tiny kisses along his jaw. As if he had a choice in the matter. "You’re very ardent today."

"Ooh, big words. What a turn on." Logan’s hands traveled down the length of his spine.

"Logan," he said firmly. "You may be the leader in the bedroom--" The man had the audacity to smirk at this. "But I’m the leader of this session. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before the ball. Now, lock your frame."

Logan sighed and hung his head.

"Come on, we haven’t much time and you still need to learn how to waltz."

Logan moved into position far too easily, and even with his shades on, Scott could see the twinkle in the older man’s eyes. He was definitely up to something.

They moved through the first pattern with relative ease, Logan really did catch on quickly. Scott decided to be magnanimous and ignore the man’s wandering hands, unless it got in the way of the lesson. For the most part, he enjoyed the attention, the tingle of being pursued. Logan had a way of making him feel like he was the most desirable thing in the world, with just a look or a small, revealing touch. It was more in what wasn’t being said, a silent communion forming between them.

He cleared his throat as Logan’s hand slid down to cup his ass. "Want to try something more complicated?"

Logan smiled. "We need more complication in our lives?" He squeezed and Scott had to hold his breath for a few moments.

"I think you’re ready for it."

The older man looked at him for a long time then nodded. So Scott showed him some spinning turns and lifts he had seen in a Fred Estaire movie, ages ago. Once Logan understood the moves, things flowed together perfectly, the two of them linked together in the dance. Scott had to admit, the man’s physical prowess was impressive.

"You’re doing really well."

"You sound surprised." Logan’s voice was light. He seemed very playful today.

"I am. Dip me."

Logan spun him out and then pulled him in, dipping him low, leaning down over him. "You smell good, priss."

"Don’t call me—agh--" Logan was biting at his throat through his turtleneck. "Not here." Of course, the older man ignored him. "Logan! Someone might see--"

"Don’t care."

He draped over Logan’s arm, his head dangling but two feet from the floor, unable to move without unhinging them. Logan purposefully kept him off balance to steal a kiss, a soft, sensual press of the lips. Things heated up very quickly, Logan forcing his mouth open and then exploring him with gusto. No longer caring about the lesson, Scott wrapped his arms around Logan’s neck and let the man have his way. It was too good to complain.

Logan lifted him back to his feet, never breaking the kiss, and then reached to remove Scott’s glasses. The moment he realized they were off, he panicked, pulling away, his heart leaping to this throat.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to see you." Logan kissed the apples of his cheeks, his eyelashes.

"Logan, no!" He gripped the older man’s shoulders. "It’s too dangerous. Someone could get hurt; I could kill you."

"Yeah? And every time you sleep next to me, I could have another nightmare and impale you, like I did Rogue. That’s the chance guys like us take, getting close to someone."

Guys like us. Scott pressed his forehead to Logan’s chin. "I’m frightened." Where had that come from? He had never meant to tell Logan anything like that. It was too… pathetic. He was so embarrassed.

Logan kissed his forehead. "You really are beautiful, you know." Scott tried to pull away. "And for the record, this is new to me, too." Logan kissed him them, a powerful, demanding, break-his-neck-in-two kind of kiss.

Scott had no idea what happened; one moment his tonsils were getting sucked out of him, the next he was a good two feet away from Logan, blind, reaching out into space, alone.

"Logan?" he asked into the darkness.

The door snicked open.

"Scott? Logan?" Storm’s voice. Logan must have sensed her coming.

"Storm," Logan acknowledged, his voice carefully level. Sometimes not being able to see heightened Scott’s other senses, and he could tell Logan was more than a little shocked at the moment.

"What’s going on?"

The cd on the stereo stopped, filling the room with deafening silence.

"Um…" Logan faltered.

"I… was thinking of starting up a dance class this summer, you know, since we’re having a ball and everything this weekend. Thought maybe it might interest the kids in ballroom. Logan was helping me work some patterns out, is all."

Storm’s boots clicked across the hard wood floor. "Logan? Helping you with some patterns?"

Scott nodded. "He’s really quite good."

He could tell by the heavy silence that Storm wasn’t quite buying it. "And your glasses?"

"Uh… Well…"

"Scott was telling me about how the ruby and quartz combination kept his eyeballs from incinerating everything." He could practically hear the grin spread across Logan’s face. "So I thought I’d take a look at them."

Storm walked over to Logan and tapped her foot. Scott stood there, trying to look at ease.

"You give him back his glasses, Logan. It’s not nice to bully your teammates."

"You’re right," Logan said to the floor, his head obviously hung in shame. "Sorry, Storm; I just don’t know what came over me."

Logan placed his shades back on Scott’s nose and pushed the rim up carefully. "Sorry, one-eye. Your mommy says you can’t play anymore."

Scott blinked and suddenly the world was back in all its red-gold glory. Ignoring the older man for a moment he turned to Storm. "Storm? Is there something you needed?"

"Just to deliver the message that the Professor would like everyone to join him for dinner tonight. He has something he wants to talk about."

He traded looks with Logan.

"Could you be more specific?" Logan asked, worry creasing his brow.

She shrugged. "Wish I could. I’m in the dark, too. See you tonight. The teacher’s lounge at eight." She turned on her heel and walked to the door. "Next time you practice your moves, boys, you might want to think about locking the door? You never know what unsuspecting student might catch the sight you two tangoing. They’ll think Hell has frozen over."

Logan waited until she closed the door. "For your information, it was a waltz!"

Scott let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. "That was close. And you! You keep your hands to yourself, mister!"

Logan’s expression transformed into that of a fallen angel. "Is it my fault you’re so sexy I can’t control myself?"

Scott opened and closed his mouth, at a complete loss, hating the blush that crept up from underneath his turtleneck. He didn’t really have time to reply, with Logan advancing on him like a lion stalking a gazelle. The man’s eyes glittered predatorily.

"Now, Logan…" Scott began walking backwards towards the door, both wary, and if he were to be totally honest with himself, giddy, about the gleam in Logan’s eye. His hand reached for the knob, but Logan pressed the door shut with the flat of his palm.

Just then the bell rang, signaling the end of lunchtime.

Scott relaxed, smirking a little at the twitch in Logan’s jaw. "Guess we’ll have to finish that thought later."

The twitching increased. "You can count on it," Logan grumbled, letting up on the door.

Scott took the older man’s head in his hands and, throwing caution to the wind, kissed Logan as seductively as he knew how. "I’m looking forward to it." He could feel the heat coming off Logan in waves, knew he was playing with fire. "But first, we’ll have to make it through dinner."

He turned and slipped out of the room, smiling when he heard Logan slump against the door.

~*~

Dinner had an official, if not a formal, air. Good china and silverware rested on the polished wood table; tantalizing aromas peeked out from under the covered serving trays. Scott walked in and took his place at the table quietly; everyone else was already seated. Everyone but Logan, of course, who walked in five minutes late, black grease and oil covering his overalls. Must have been working in the garage; Scott prayed he hadn’t done anything to either his car or his bike.

"Logan, glad you could join us," the Professor said, a kind smile on his face.

"’Scuse me, Professor. Been distracted lately." Logan shot a look at Scott, but Scott kept his gaze on his plate.

Dinner was served and the X-Men took up their forks and knives.

The Professor placed his napkin on his lap. "Yes, I have felt something’s been preoccupying you lately. You as well, Scott."

Scott’s head shot up. Oh God, oh God, just stay calm, he kept telling himself.

"I hope all is well?"

Scott nodded. "Everything’s fine."

The Professor looked to Logan.

"Dandy." Logan gulped down an entire glass of wine.

Xavier nodded and let it drop, but Scott had the sneaking suspicion he knew. "Good. I’m going to need you both focused."

"Is there something going on, Professor?" Storm asked, on the edge of her seat.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I regret having to tell you this, but it appears there’s been some trouble with John, or I should say Pyro. You remember he joined forces with Magneto some time ago?"

"Three months and a week ago," Scott muttered, pushing food around his plate with a fork.

"Yes," the Professor said, solemnly. "It would appear he’s been involved in some deadly arson attacks near by the Senate. He’s been targeting offices specifically belonging to politicians of the anti-Mutant persuasion, it would seem. I thought perhaps we should take care of this, before the matter got out of hand and this became an excuse to pass more anti-Mutant legislation."

Logan cleared his throat. "When you say take care of, do you mean permanently?"

Scott spoke up. "Of course not. He’s just a child. We can’t kill him." He turned to the Professor. "I’m sure if we sat him down, explained things, we could make him change his mind. He’s young; he’s impressionable."

Logan pushed his chair back on its hind legs. "Yeah, impressionable enough to blow up entire offices--"

Scott tried to control his voice. "Logan, have some patience--"

"—Patience is going to get innocent people killed!"

"Nobody else is going to die!" Scott slapped the table with such force the plates shook. He fought to control himself; could feel the calming touch of the Professor in his mind. "John’s my student. I’ll go and I’ll bring him back into the fold."

"And if he doesn’t want to come back into the fold?" Logan peered at him intensely.

Xavier cleared his throat. "Then I’m afraid we’ll have to fight him; to hold him in detention, I mean." The Professor also gazed at Scott intensely. "Are you sure you’re up to this, Scott? These past few weeks have been very--"

"I can handle it," Scott insisted. "Besides, if we have to fight him," he looked challengingly at Logan, "it’s best to fight fire with fire."

He knew they were all looking at the red glare coming from behind his shades; his serious tone ensured nobody would question his resolve.

Logan shrugged. "You’re the leader."

"That’s right. I am." He locked gazes with Logan and time dissipated, the anger and frustration threatening their newfound closeness.

"Who is team leader is not in dispute," Xavier commented. "But whom do we send after Pyro? I want it understood that as X-Men, our goals have always been to unite Mutants and people together. We would all very much like to see John back at the school, but if he continues to follow Magneto and his radical methods, then we must put a stop to it. By force if necessary."

Scott bowed his head and Logan eased his chair back into an upright position. For the rest of the dinner the conversation consisted of planning Pyro’s capture. Xavier suspected they would do better split up into groups.

Scott and Logan were not in the same group. This upset him greatly, because he wanted to keep Wolverine from killing Pyro… and also because, deep down inside, he wanted to watch Logan’s back. Pyro was headstrong, unpredictable and vengeful. So was Logan. The two of them in the same room was disturbing enough; the two of them fighting could be disastrous.

After the minor details were worked out, Xavier turned to him. "I think that about covers it all. Anything to add Scott?"

"No, Professor. Just… be careful everyone."

The X-Men nodded and one by one, pushed back from the table and left. Logan was the first one out the door.

Scott had hoped to catch up with him in the garage, but it was empty. The cd from early that day was playing in his car, however. He hoped to high hell it wouldn’t kill his battery. Still, it was kind of sweet that Logan carried that music with him.

Scott shook his head. He just couldn’t get a fix on the man. One minute feral and deadly as any wild animal, the next minute romantic and heroic and…. And Scott sat down beside his car. He noticed some tools scattered around and his curiosity piqued. Lowering himself down all the way, he scooted under the car and saw that Logan had finished the detailing and repairs he had been making earlier. He sighed. There was just no understanding Logan.

Quickly, he tidied up in the garage and then went to his room to grab a shower. He didn’t let himself look at the bed, ignored the sheets that hadn’t been touched in two days, just heading straight for the bathroom. The hot water soaked muscles that he didn’t realize had been tense. He always felt better after a bath.

Inevitably, his mind wandered back to the shower he’d shared with Logan. Those strong arms forcing him against the wall, holding him up, insisting that he bear the pleasure, those long fingers driving him over the edge…

He sighed again, stepping out of the shower. This was getting out of hand. It’s like he was addicted. He couldn’t focus on anything else, didn’t feel normal unless he was around Logan. His once brilliant intellect had fallen away, leaving a dopey, horny teenager in its wake. Scott didn’t like how dependent he’d become on the older man. Not just for sleep, but… It was like he’d replaced the bottle with Logan, and either way, it wasn’t healthy.

He looked over at the bed. It was time to move on, time to pick himself up. For the sake of the team, which he was about to lead on their first mission in months. For the sake of his sanity. And even for Jean.

On shaky legs, he walked over to the bed and pulled the sheets back all the way. He threw the top layer on the floor, scrambled to gather up the bed sheet and then heard himself give a little sob. It was like he could see himself in a far away tunnel; every sensation registered on a delayed reaction. He gathered the material together, stuffed it in his hamper. He ripped the pillowcases off and crammed them in, then walked like a zombie out into the hall, intent on finding the washing machines.

"Hey, Mr. Summers."

"Hey, Bobby," he said in what sounded like a broken voice, even to his own ears. "Where’s the washing machines again?"

"Um…" Bobby looked left and right. "I don’t know; the staff does all the washing."

"Oh," Scott said, turning away from Bobby. "I’ll just keep looking ‘til I find them, then."

"I think they might be in the basement!" Bobby called after him.

He nodded and went towards the elevator. If someone had asked him how he got down into the washroom, he wouldn’t be able to tell them. He had no memory of pushing the elevator buttons, no idea how he navigated the labyrinth of hallways and rooms. Finally he found his way into a little alcove with washers and dryers, and absently thought he’d never washed anything of his own since he’d come to this school. That was odd. He wondered if he’d needed quarters. No, of course not. That would be just silly. The maids wouldn’t carry around quarters all day. Oh God, he thought, his mind was going.

Crumpling to the floor, he clutched the silk sheets in the hamper and buried his face in them, sobbing. He couldn’t do this; he just couldn’t do this. She couldn’t really be gone. He’d betrayed her! He didn’t save her from the flood! He didn’t remain faithful to her memory for more than a few months! He couldn’t even be trusted with her fucking sheets!

Scott lay there on the floor, fistfuls of the material clutched close to his chest, his face streaked with tears. So tired… so tired. He closed his eyes.

Hours later, not yet dawn, he woke to find himself sweating under the thick material, sprawled on the basement floor. He gathered up the sheets and stared at the washing machines for a moment, then shoved them in the closest one and removed his shades. The silk went up in smoke, bright flames flashing for a few moments and then just a few embers burning an angry orange. Scott closed the door, staring at the charred, empty washer and thinking that was how he felt… charred, empty… broken. Done.

"Good bye, Jean. Ashes to ashes…"

When he made his way to Logan’s room, Logan was sitting in a chair, arms and legs folded defensively about him, staring at the door. As if he’d been waiting for Scott all night like that. Scott opened his mouth to tell him about the sheets, but only a tiny squeak came out. He took a few more steps, Logan shifted his weight, and then he was in Logan’s arms, his hot tears spotting the man’s tank top.

Logan didn’t ask where he’d been. He didn’t question Scott about the scene at dinner this evening. He just held Scott, and Scott was grateful. Strong arms picked him up, put him on the bed and pulled the covers up around him. A gentle hand pushed his bangs off his face and then Logan settled in next to him.

Scott was beyond caring about much of anything except stopping the pain; he clung to Logan’s shirt and pressed the length of his body to the older man’s side. "Just don’t let go, okay?" he whispered.

Logan kissed his forehead. "Okay."

~*~

The boy came in reeking of Jean—of those awful sheets with Jean’s scent on them. He was shaking; his face dirty and streaked with tears. Logan had no clue what had happened, but it was obvious what Scott needed at that moment. So he gathered him up and put him to bed, saving his questions for later.

So, Scott smelled of Jean. But he also smelled like Scott. Sandalwood, tears, salty sweat. And Logan found himself drawn to Scott’s scent more than he had ever been to Jean’s.

This thing between them was getting completely out of hand; but what could Logan do? His mind told him it was crazy, that he wasn’t the type to look for a committed relationship, let alone with another man, let alone with another man as emotionally wrecked as Scott. But the beast in him spoke louder, demanding: mate. Mate. He could no sooner turn Scott away than Scott could stop coming to his door. The question remained, however, just what was it that kept bringing Scott back?

Exhausted from waiting up all night and worrying, Logan closed his eyes and held the boy close. Perhaps he could catch a few winks before dawn…

When he woke, Scott was nuzzling him like a kitten, rubbing his cheek and forehead across his chest in an endearingly playful manner.

"Mornin’," Logan mumbled into the soft black hair.

"Hmm." Scott began to lap at his nipple, making his intentions crystal clear, and Logan had to take a calming breath.

"You sure you’re up for this?" he asked.

Scott pressed a healthy erection into his hip. "I’m up for anything."

He couldn’t keep the delight from his voice. "Anything?"

The boy bit down on his nipple and then straddled his waist. Logan watched as Scott gave him a cocky little smirk. "I’m inspired to turn over a new leaf. Give new things a try." He licked Logan’s cheek and Logan’s libido kicked into overdrive. "Think maybe you could help me with that?"

With two handfuls of writhing, horny, half-naked Scott, Logan found himself trapped between the rock of his desire and the hard place of his conscience. "You sure you’re not just running away from last night? Not trying to hide from your problems in sex?"

Scott paused and Logan wished he didn’t always have to look at the kid through his glasses.

"I’m not running away any more, Logan. I’m facing my fears."

He frowned, not following. "What fears?"

Scott sighed. "I mean… I mean…"

"Yeah?"

"I mean I’m ready to let go now. Move on. Try… new… things." Scott ground his ass over Logan’s stiff cock and raised a pointed eyebrow.

"Oh," Logan said stupidly, beginning to catch the boy’s drift. He let his hands roam possessively over Scott. "Enticing as that offer is… and it is enticing… it’s pretty late. Don’t you have class?"

Scott grinned like a schoolboy. "Not on Saturdays Logan."

Logan fought the smile on his face. "It’s Saturday…"

The boy began humping his crotch, and it felt fabulous. "Mm hmm."

"And that means we don’t have anything to do all day…" Logan’s hands cupped Scott and pushed him forward.

"I wonder… ah… what we’ll find to do…"

Logan stopped. "But we have a mission…"

"Not until tonight," Scott whined petulantly.

Logan bit his lip. "Still you have to keep your strength up. And then tomorrow is Rogue’s ball…"

"Logan? Are you actually turning down sex with me?"

"What’s a matter, priss? The thought bruise your ego?" Logan began kneading the boy’s buttocks again, taking up their lethargic rhythm once more.

"Mm… Logan…" Scott leaned down and kissed him so passionately, nipping and biting.

"Christ, you’re frisky in the morning, Summers."

Scott grinned, unlacing his pajama bottoms with one hand. "Frisky," he giggled stupidly.

Every inch of skin revealed while the boy removed his clothes became Logan’s own personal playground. He raked his nails over the smooth flesh of the boy’s ass, tickled the backs of those supple thighs, all the while drinking in Scott’s appreciative whimpers.

Scott’s hot breath whispered in his ear, "I want to smell like you, for the rest of the day."

With a growl Logan just ripped the boy’s pants off and threw them to the floor.

"Hey! Those’re my good pair! You can’t keep ripping all my clothes!"

"Like you better naked anyway," Logan grumbled, rolling Scott underneath him. "Did you mean it?" He pinched the boy’s pert nipple.

"Guh… huh?"

"You said you wanted to try new things. Did you mean it?"

Scott blushed a little but held his gaze. "Yeah."

Those lips were so pretty; he couldn’t help watching when Scott wet them nervously with his tongue. "You’re going to have to trust me." He painted that lovely lower lip with his forefinger.

The boy captured his finger and sucked on it eagerly, making Logan hard enough to cry. He let the boy bob up and down on his forefinger, mimicking the sex act so suggestively, and for a moment, he realized just how far Scott had come over the past week. How much they’d both changed. For the better. Finally Scott let him go, kissing the pad of his finger before whispering, "I trust you."

Logan reached up and removed the kid’s shades, noting instantly the increased heartbeat and breathing pattern. The scent of alarm. "Trust has its consequences… and it’s rewards." He took a hold of Scott’s hands and placed them firmly on the headboard, holding them there until Scott got the idea and gripped the wood. Then he removed the shades.

With his wet finger he traced a lazy pattern down Scott’s chest, then blew on the trail, enjoying Scott’s shiver. "You’re so sexy like this, Summers." He kissed the boy’s jaw, the corner of his lips. Placed a gentle kiss on each closed eye.

"Logan?"

"Mm?"

"Could you… could you blindfold me? That way, I won’t be able to open my eyes and hurt you."

He kissed the boy again. "I trust you." He began removing his own clothes, letting Scott hear everything and imagine his movements.

"I don’t trust myself."

"Baby? If you open your eyes, a blindfold isn’t gonna save me. I trust you." He kissed Scott again, pressing his full weight on the younger man’s trembling body, warm skin flush with warm skin.

For endless moments they traded heated kisses, nothing but the sound of their bodies and Scott’s breathy moans in the room. Logan made a point of repeatedly kissing Scott’s eyes and cheeks and telling him he was beautiful, relaxing him and getting him ready for what was to follow.

The metallic slice of his claws scraping out pierced the air, and Scott tensed. Logan lightly traced the tips down the boy’s arms, down his chest, across his spread legs. Every so often he let them break skin just a tad, little droplets of blood forming at the apex of Scott’s thighs, underarms. Sexy little whimpers would bubble up from Scott each time Logan lapped at the wounds.

"Logan…" the boy whispered every so often.

"You want me to teach you new things, Scott?"

"Yes."

"You want me to fuck you. To master you."

Scott swallowed thickly. "Yes."

Logan scratched a deep cut on the boy’s chest, watching Scott arch up in shock, but the kid did not let his hands leave the headboard. "Very good. Good boy," Logan whispered affectionately, licking at the scars. "You’re mine now, Scott. I’ve marked you."

"Oh, Logan."

He petted the boy’s hair back from that angular, hopeful face and let his claws slide back in. "I think you deserve a reward."

Guiding Scott onto his belly and then all fours, he repositioned the kid’s hands so that they were gripping the headboard again. Then he licked Scott’s ear playfully before raining soft kisses down the kid’s spine. He positioned himself behind Scott, parting the globes of the boy’s ass with his thumbs. He’d never done this, not to a man, but Scott said he wanted to try new things… and Logan desperately didn’t want to disappoint him.

At the first stroke of his tongue over the boy’s cleft, Scott shot off the bed with a yelp. "What are you doing?"

He spanked Scott hard and then trapped Scott’s hands between the headboard and his own. "I’m concentrating. Don’t move again, Summers, or there will consequences."

"But--"

Another stinging blow to the boy’s rump and Scott shut his mouth.

He moved back down and continued, this time slower, taking long, lazy licks up and down the rim of Scott’s ass.

"Oh God!" Scott groaned.

Logan smiled and went to work, drawing from Scott the most amazing sounds of satisfaction and tortured pleasure. The boy kept gasping his name like some sort of desperate mantra and it only torqued him higher. He wanted Scott to come undone.

"Please, please…"

Finally the ache in his jaw and cock wore him down, and Logan let go of Scott’s hips and moved to cover him again. "What do you want, baby? Tell me. I’ll do it."

Scott was pressing back to him eagerly, humming softly. "Please, Logan."

He kissed the boy’s shoulder. "Tell me."

"Fuck me."

Logan closed his eyes. He had to. He was going to come just from hearing such a thing on Scott Summers’ lips. Finally, the kid wanted to go all the way. Logan had no idea if the boy was truly ready for it, but it was beyond helping now. He had to get into that trembling body; had to mark Scott with his scent.

Fisting a handful of Scott’s hair, he pulled the kid taut like bow. "Open for me."

Scott wanted to hang his head; Logan could feel the impulse thrumming along the younger man’s nerves. He wouldn’t let it happen, wouldn’t give up his hold on the kid’s soft hair. "Open for me, Scott."

The boy’s legs shifted farther apart and Logan settled there, all the while running a soothing hand down Scott’s back, his ass… finally a finger teasing at the boy’s entrance. Scott hissed and sucked in a breath, tensing every so often as Logan prepared him. Logan forced himself to be patient and gentle, taking a long, long time to ensure that his length would not cause the kid too much pain.

He crooked a finger and found that sweet spot hiding in Scott’s depths, smiling as the boy’s nails scraped the wood finish on the headboard. "Good?"

"Yeah. Logan… Logan?"

Logan positioned his cock at Scott’s opening and forced himself slowly to the hilt. He could tell Scott was biting his lip to keep from screaming, could tell that no matter how carefully he went it was going to hurt.

"You’re so brave," he whispered, wondering when the hell he’d gotten so soft and sweet on the kid.

He kissed the boy’s quivering shoulders, bit down on the back of the boy’s neck, waiting for Scott to relax and take him all the way. They were locked together for several moments, Logan’s torso flush with Scott’s back, their breathing, one.

Relaxing his grip on Scott’s hair, he began petting the boy, moving his hips back and forth ever so slightly. When Scott began to moan, he’d give himself a wider range of motion. It didn’t take long for Scott to start bucking under him, greedy little pleas and gasps for more escaping the boy’s mouth.

The kid hung from the headboard now, his ass high in the air as Logan fucked in and out of him, stabbing his swollen prick again and again into Scott, lifting and pushing the boy forward with the force of it.

"Ah! Oh! Lo… Logan!" Scott’s voice was hoarse, deep with strain and need.

He snaked a hand around the boy’s abdomen, tugging on the pulsing cock. "You’re so hard, baby."

"Hmm… ah…" Scott pressed back to him urgently, turning his face up to receive Logan’s tender kisses.

"Is it good?" he asked Scott.

"Someday… you’ll have to… let me fuck you… and then you can see… for yourself… ah!"

Logan spanked him with every thrust, more turned on by the idea of Scott doing this to him than he’d like to admit. "We’ll see how well you behave, priss."

Scott turned to say something and Logan just thrust harder, making the bed slap against the wall with almost the same force that his hand slapped against Scott’s ass.

"Sweet… Christ!" Scott yelped.

It was too adorable; he just couldn’t bear not looking at the boy again. He pulled out, perhaps a bit too roughly, and turned Scott over. The boy’s eyes were screwed shut, of course, and fine wisps of his hair stuck to his crinkled forehead. He was absolutely gorgeous. Logan couldn’t help kissing him, happy when the kid’s hands dove into his hair or splayed across his back.

Scott could be such a submissive, eager little thing; quite the opposite of how he behaved as field leader. Logan thrilled as the boy hooked his legs behind Logan’s thighs and began molding them closer together. He pulled away, gasping for air, and looked intensely at Scott. "God, you’re so fucking perfect." He had no idea why he felt the need to make such stupid, impassioned declarations to the boy, but Scott seemed to enjoy it, tugging him back down for another steamy kiss.

"In me," the boy whispered, groping at him and splaying his legs like a wanton whore.

He was so sincere about it; that was what got Logan. So damned unsure and honest and sweet about it. Logan found himself placing Scott’s legs around his waist and thrusting back into the kid without preamble. Scott clung to him, his hands raking down Logan’s back and scratching at Logan’s neck, making him shiver. He couldn’t keep from kissing the boy, couldn’t help but try and meld their mouths together. Somehow the kissing was more important than the sex, more important than anything. He wanted Scott to taste him; he wanted to devour Scott.

The boy’s knees dug into Logan’s side and he could tell the kid was moments away from coming. Lowering himself onto Scott, he rubbed the weeping prick between their bodies, determined to feel it when Scott came. All too soon Scott’s nails clawed at Logan’s back and hot ropes of semen spurted all over him. Logan bit down on Scott’s neck, growling, his own orgasm thick and pungent, sweeping and painfully fragile all at the same time. In all his life, he’d never been more aware of a single moment than he was the moment he and Scott came together.

The boy fell back on the sheets and Logan collapsed on top of him, his softening cock still buried deep in Scott.

"That was amazing," Scott whispered, his lips brushing over the shell of Logan’s ear.

"You were amazing," Logan countered. He fell asleep right there, sheltered in Scott’s arms.

~*~

Scott held onto Logan while the man slept. A light sheen of sweat covered both their bodies. He fought the urge to run his hands up and down Logan’s back, not wanting to disturb his well-earned rest. It felt so good to take Logan’s weight, to feel Logan’s heartbeat next to his own. He stroked the man’s hair, careful not to wake him, so happy just to hold him.

He couldn’t see; had no idea where Logan had put his glasses. Didn’t care, either. He didn’t need them to know that the older man looked peaceful, that they were twined perfectly around each other. There in the darkness, Scott felt closer to Logan than to anyone else he had ever known. This was the most sated and content moment of Scott’s life. He pressed his cheek to Logan’s, sighing as the older man’s sideburns grazed his own smooth skin. Logan’s hair was thick, soft, and unruly around his fingers. Everything about the man was unruly, unusual… perfect.

"You keep sighing like that, priss, and you’re going to toss me off the bed." Logan’s voice was a delicate rumble of thunder that shuddered through Scott.

"Can’t help it; I’m happy."

Logan shifted and Scott knew the older man was looking at him. "I’m glad then," Logan whispered, planting a butterfly-soft kiss on his lips.

"I thought you were asleep," Scott said.

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard Logan murmur, "Don’t wanna waste it," before the man began kissing his neck. Scott arched up, baring his throat, completely submissive to any and all of Logan’s demands. Strong arms wrapped around behind him, lifting him into a hug, a claiming sort of embrace as Logan sucked at the cords of Scott’s neck. He only had to lie there and enjoy what Logan gave him, too drenched in satisfaction to move much at all.

"You’re very obedient today," Logan said, his voice laced in amusement.

"You want me to struggle, then?" Scott joked, wriggling in Logan’s arms. He could feel some of Logan’s seed run down his legs and he blushed.

"Struggling sorta gets in the way, don’t it? Waste of time…" A large hand slid down his ribs, coming up to rub his chest, gently torture a nipple.

"Ah!" Scott panted a bit.

"You’re very sensitive," Logan said quietly, bending down to lave the sore nipple.

Scott wound his arms around the older man’s back, cupping his head as Logan fed from him. He let little moans escape him, knowing Logan liked to hear him. It caught him by surprise when Logan licked lower, swiping his chest and abdomen of their sticky spending. If Scott had imagined such a thing two days ago, he would have thought it gross, unsanitary, at the very least. Now? It was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced. Logan didn’t stop until he was clean.

Blindly, he reached out for his lover—yes, he thought of Logan as his lover now—determined to return the favor. Logan shifted to accommodate him, his breath sounding harsh to Scott’s ears as he tenderly lapped up his own cum from Logan’s chest. Scott had never tasted himself before; it was sweet like oranges and strong like spice. Not really gross at all. He licked lower, his mouth finding Logan’s hardening cock. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft and delicately rubbed the glans across the breadth of his tongue.

"Fuck," Logan swore under his breath.

A thrilling tingle swept through Scott with the knowledge that he could unravel Logan so easily. He took the man all the way in, delighting in Logan’s groans, in the feel of those rough hands on the back of his neck. Daringly, he cupped Logan’s heavy balls and gently massaged them, noticing that the older man propelled his hips forward at Scott’s every touch.

Then Logan was shifting, changing position, but Scott couldn’t see what he had in mind. He let up on Logan’s cock, opened his mouth to question his lover, when the older man moved under him and grasped Scott confidently. Scott whimpered when Logan licked him, chortled in surprised when Logan’s fingers invaded him again, finding the pleasure center as if he’d had the route memorized.

Determined not to be outdone, Scott gripped Logan’s heavy prick again and took him deeply, working his throat muscles and tongue to overwhelm Logan every way he knew how. He could tell the other man was losing it; the fingers fucking him moved faster, more insistently, while the mouth around his cock hummed contentedly.

It didn’t take long before they were both coming, Scott slightly overwhelmed by the flood of Logan’s thick, spicy seed. He swallowed as much as he could, some trickling out of his mouth as his own orgasm tore through him. It was heaven.

Logan laid Scott on his back and then covered him completely, kissing him deeply, their tongues warring, each wanting to taste the other man, to taste their own spending. That wicked tongue lapped at Scott’s lips, catching the little trickles that formed at the corners of his mouth, his chin.

"Logan," he breathed, having no words to explain how he felt. In a rare moment of trust, the older man lowered himself to rest his head on Scott’s stomach, clinging to Scott as a child would hug his mother. Instinctively Scott’s arms twined around Logan protectively, his fingertips soothing the strain from Logan’s shoulders. For long moments neither of them moved or spoke, tangled up in each other’s warmth.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Realization crashed into Scott like a runaway train. He remembered last night that neither of them had locked the door. Pushing Logan away roughly, he groped at the nightstand for his shades, but they weren’t there. Swearing, he searched frantically, knocking over the lamp in the process. He heard the knob of the door twist and in a fit of panic, dove for the other side of the bed.

"Logan? Is everything all right?" Strong German accent, slight hesitation in the voice; had to be Kurt Wagner.

Scott crouched down on the floor, hiding close to the bed, his hands coasting over his pajama bottoms. Ripped, of course, totally useless. This was completely mortifying.

"Just a moment," Logan growled—deep, angry. Scott shuddered.

He could hear Logan tug on his pants from the night before and stalk over to the door. He must have yanked it open because Nightcrawler let out a startled noise.

"What do you want?" Logan asked through grit teeth.

"Um… yes… I… well, I…"

"What is it?" Logan pressed; Scott could hear the impatience and scorn in his voice and had a sneaking suspicion it was not there for Nightcrawler alone.

"I hope I’m not interrupting?" Kurt sound intimidated and Scott could sympathize.

"No," Logan said sarcastically. "Do I look busy?"

"Um, I just wanted to tell you, um, that is to say… Storm was wondering if you could come take a look at the jet? She said something about throttles, I don’t know, I’m not very good with technical things in English, especially flying machines, as I can sort of get around on my own--"

"What’s wrong with the jet?"

"Um, I believe she said she was hoping you could make sure the flaps—am I saying that right?—were properly distending. Yes, that was what she said."

Logan sighed. "Well, sure. I’m the handyman around here. I’m just so good at fixing other people’s problems…"

Scott cringed, crouching lower on the floor.

"But, Logan. If it’s the team’s problem, isn’t it your problem as well? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to get in something broken and die so stupidly…"

Scott had to admire the little blue devil. He had spine, facing up to Logan like that.

"Yeah. Fine. Great," Logan said shortly. "Tell Storm I’ll be with her as soon as I grab a shower."

There was a tense silence. "You seem in an awfully bad mood," Kurt ventured. "Is everything all right?"

"Had a bad dream," Logan said over his shoulder. "A real nightmare."

Now that pissed Scott off. What did he expect Scott to do? Answer Logan’s door naked, blind, covered in spunk and looking like he’d just been fucked within an inch of his life? Probably, given how territorial Logan could be. That would probably just make Logan feel peachy. He was insane for even being here, for starting this… Not that he’d been the one to actually start this—

"Ah! Nightmares!" Nightcrawler said excitedly. "Yes, I see that now. Look at your sheets, the lamp, a mess!"

"Look, bub--"

"I’ve been having nightmares, too. I think God speaks to us in our dreams. You know, maybe all the X-Men have them? Mine are so strange. A winged bird rises up from this wall of fire--"

"Gee, that’s interesting. Do you mind telling me later?" Logan snarled. "Got to shower, get that jet fixed before tonight?"

"Oh, oh, yes of course. Forgive me." Scott could practically hear Wagner’s apologetic bow. "Perhaps some other time."

"Yeah," Logan said. "We’ll make some cocoa and sit around the common room and talk about our feelings and shit. Bye now." He slammed the door with menacing force, then stomped over to where Scott was huddled on the floor.

"That was pretty rude, even for you, Logan."

Logan wrenched him up by the arm and tossed him on the bed. "Like you’re one to lecture me about manners right now, Scott."

"Why are so you angry?" Scott asked the darkness, unable to sense Logan anywhere near him.

"Can’t imagine," came the muffled growl from the bathroom.

"Logan? Where are you? Where are my glasses?" Soft terrycloth hit in him the face—a robe. Scott put it on hastily. "Logan?"

The tip of his shades poked him sharply in the chest; Scott took them and stood there for a moment, stunned.

"Put them on, get out." Logan’s voice was cold, impossibly cold and rational. It had to be an act, Logan always boiled over when angry.

Scott slid the glasses on and opened his eyes; the first thing he noted was the absence of expression on Logan’s face.

"What--"

"Out." Logan folded his arms over his bare chest—a chest that Scott had kissed and licked and nuzzled just moments before.

"Why--"

"Do we have to fucking talk about everything, priss? You made it clear you like it enough being here, being with me, so long as no one else knows about it, right?"

Scott blushed, feeling every bit the coward. "What could I--"

"So leave, before anyone else finds out about your dirty little secret." Logan invaded his space, trapping Scott at the edge of the bed. "Before anyone discovers you just went slumming with… what was it you used to call me? Oh yeah, an animal."

"Logan…" Scott said, horrified. This wasn’t how he felt at all. Logan had it all wrong! He reached out to touch the older man’s shoulder but his hand was knocked away.

"Are you deaf as well as blind? I said get out."

"Let me explain--"

The claws came out. Scott had no idea why that hurt so much. It was like a slap in the face, an insult past bearing.

"I don’t ask three times," Logan growled, every bit Wolverine in this moment.

Feeling like his guts had just been ripped out, Scott hung his head and skirted past Logan. He slipped out the door without looking back, not wanting Logan to see the tears sliding from underneath his shades.

In a daze he walked to his own room; his trembling hands clutched his robe closed. This had to be the most extreme roller coaster ride of emotions he’d been on since he was a moody teenager. One minute angry over John, the next bereft over Jean… then so happy, so damned happy with Logan… and now. Now he just felt like shit.

He opened the door and crawled into bed, too exhausted to take a shower, or remove Logan’s robe, or even think. He felt the tentative brush of Xavier’s mind, pushed it away. God, he was so confused. He just wanted to be left alone. Curling up on the unmade mattress, Scott tugged Logan’s robe tight around him and shut down.

~*~

Logan was so mad he could barely see what he was doing. Storm hovered nearby, handing him the tools he asked for every few minutes. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to just smash everything to smithereens with his wrench.

"Logan?"

He grunted.

"Logan? Do you want to talk about it?"

Pausing, he peered over at the beautiful woman floating next to him. She probably got the point from the look he gave her.

"Okay," she said, shrugging, "just don’t damage the jet. We’re supposed to be fixing it."

"Something’s stuck in the flap," he mumbled, sticking his tongue out as he stretched and bent over the wing. He used a screwdriver to dig in the crack of the under-wing.

This was fucking stupid. Scott was such a bastard. A sniveling, simpering, hypocritical bastard. Uptight little fucker. Him and his fucking tweed suits with the little leather patches on the elbows. His fucking polished loafers. That crap music. Perfect English and Republican-Boy Scout-principles and drinking his tea with the little finger crooked up. What Jean ever saw in him… What he ever saw in the boy…

Granted, the kid was easy on the eyes. Strong, but in a graceful sort of way. In a wispy, intangible, infuriatingly soft of way. The way his hair smelled, the way it felt wound around Logan’s fingers. Those goddamn moans, the tilt and buck of the boy’s hips. His sweet cum… Christ, Logan didn’t know if he was more pissed at Scott or himself.

Wasn’t he good enough? Was Ms. Priss too fucking elite to be seen with a nobody like him? Or maybe he just didn’t want everyone to think he was gay. Understandable. Unless you’re Scott. Hell, the first time Logan clapped eyes on him, he thought the kid was a fag for certain. The past few days only proved him right. Why the fuck couldn’t Scott quit hiding who he was and fuck what anyone else thought? But no, the little man bolted like a nervous colt at the first thought of being found out. Well fuck all if he thought Logan was going to be his little white lie.

"Fuck it." He extended his middle claw and scrapped a mutilated tennis ball out from under the flap of the jet’s right wing.

"Must belong to one of the kids," Storm commented. "Thanks, Logan. I’ll go test it out on the computer and make sure we got it taken care of."

Logan pitched the ball over his shoulder and leapt off the wing. A few moments later Storm gave him a thumbs-up sign from the cockpit and he nodded curtly, then stalked out. Needed to think. Needed to stop thinking. Had to get away.

On Scott’s bike, of course.

He drove around for hours, going until he had to replenish the gas, then turned back to the school. His little excursion helped him work a few things out. One, he was pissed at Scott for denying him. Two, being pissed at Scott was hypocritical, since just the other day he had done the pushing away in the great hall. Three, Scott was grieving still and had turned to Logan for support, and inside of one week, Logan had thoroughly debauched him. Scott had begged him for help and his answer had been a physical one, of course, since he was no good with words. He had overwhelmed the kid and then erupted when Scott naturally panicked.

On the other hand. Logan had never expected to end up in bed with Scott. It’s not like he planned to seduce the kid. Sure, being with another man felt instinctive, familiar; but he had no memories of his past, and truth be told, discovering he liked men as much as he liked women had been… disarming. It wasn’t easy on him, either. Logan had never had sex like that before, never been much for cuddling and kissing and fevered declarations in the streaming sunlight. He preferred his independence.

But Scott was special, precious. He was terrified of losing him. And driving in the rain that afternoon, Logan came to terms with something. Scott was never his to begin with.

And while that thought dissipated his anger, it left him feeling hollow inside. He parked Scott’s bike in the garage and checked his watch—less than an hour to go—when he picked up the familiar scent of… himself… on Scott.

The boy approached warily, stopping just behind Logan; he wrapped his arms around Logan’s tense shoulders and squeezed. "Logan? I’m sorry."

Logan turned around but didn’t return the embrace. "If you’re ashamed of me, why bother doing it, Scott?"

The boy shook him slightly, his fancy shirt getting soaked from the rain on Logan’s jacket. "I’m not ashamed! I just… this is all happening so fast. I’m not ready for the whole world to know yet… I mean, I don’t even know what you’d call this…"

Logan put his hands over Scott’s and stared at his own ruby reflection. "Let’s get this straight. I don’t do pity fucks. You worried about my intentions, priss? They’re genuine. You need to decide what it is you want from me. I’ll give you time to make up your mind, but Scott, I’m not exactly the most patient man--"

"No?" Scott asked sarcastically, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Logan’s jaw. "Okay. I hear you. I’ll think about it."

Logan’s hand came up, almost pet the kid’s damp hair, but he hesitated. "You do that." He turned slowly and walked away.

"Logan!" the boy called, running after him.

He had no idea what made him do it; he just spun around and gathered Scott in his arms, bending the boy back, scalding him with a branding kiss. A kiss that was to leave no doubt in Scott’s mind to whom he belonged. The kid’s eager hands gripped his arms, Scott’s head tilting instantly to receive all of Logan’s force, a quiet little moan coming from deep within him.

"Logan…"

Logan kissed the boy’s rose-heated cheek, and set him back on his feet. "Don’t take too long thinking…"And then he left to go get into his uniform, hurrying before he did something insane like fuck Summers senseless in the middle of the garage.

~*~

This mission was not going well.

Shortly after landing they made their way into the office and that’s when everything went to hell.

Magneto had used Pyro as bait, the boy’s fires acting as sort of a calling card for the X-Men. It invited them right into a trap. Scott had lost the initiative all but five minutes into the operation, firestorms and chaos springing up suddenly all around his group.

He had no idea how Wolverine and Nightcrawler were doing, but he and Storm were in serious trouble. Mystique had Storm cornered, but Pyro kept Scott from helping her by surrounding him in a circular wall of fire.

To be honest, Scott had never liked fire. He had always hated the devastation his own power wrecked on others, before he learned to control it. Before the visor, Scott had kept his eyes closed for years, living most of his young life blind, rather than risk injury to others. Now he felt just as trapped, just as helpless, smoke and searing flame all around him. If only he could see his target…

"What’s a matter, Cyclops? Got something in your eye?"

Scott cocked his head towards Pyro’s voice, trying to gage his position. "John? Why are you doing this?" He had to keep the boy talking.

"Oh please, Cyke. You’re not gonna try and have, like, a discussion right now, are you?"

Yeah, Logan would say he talked too much, too. "John? Is this really what you want? Look at what you’re doing."

"Looks pretty cool from where I’m standing," the boy said haughtily.

To the left, higher up. Maybe on a platform or stairs or something. Scott reached out with his senses, desperately trying to ignore the heat of the enclosing firewall.

"John--"

"Quit calling me that, man! The name’s Pyro."

Scott took a deep breath. "You will always be John to me. You’re my student, John. You sat in the back row of my class every day and passed notes back and forth to Bobby when you thought I wasn’t looking. You wrote some of the best papers out of everyone, even if the spelling was a little off. I want that boy back. I don’t like who ‘Pyro’ has become."

There was a long pause and Scott wasn’t even sure the boy was in the same room with him anymore. He couldn’t move and the flames were getting higher, closer, and hotter.

"Pyro is who I am now, Cyke. The boy in your classroom was weak."

"I don’t think so, Jo--"

"I said quit it!"

A speared tentacle of fire leapt out at Scott; he managed to duck so as to avoid burning his face, but it still seared off the top half of his uniform. The melting rubber irritated his skin, stung and smelled something awful. He couldn’t find a way out of this. He had to get free and help Storm.

"Pyro, look. I understand that you’re upset, that you like the results that Magneto’s methods get. But Jo—Pyro. You’re hurting innocent people. You’re hurting your own friends!" The wall of flame now snaked around him, he had less than a foot of space, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

Certain he was going to die, Scott thought not of Jean, but of Logan. Logan’s strong arms around him that first time. Logan holding him up. Logan’s mouth on his. Suddenly he was sure; he didn’t need any more time to think about it. He wanted to live, wanted to be with Logan.

"John! Please don’t make me do this!" he called, his hands going to his visor.

"Burn, you fucker!" Pyro gleefully exclaimed.

Scott turned to where he knew the boy was now standing and opened fire. Red lasers sliced through the air, cutting Pyro deep, dead center. The flames around Scott lapped at him, burned bright and hard, then extinguished. Great sadness welled up in Scott as he closed his eyes; he hated having to fight a student.

When he could breathe again, Scott turned and took aim at where Mystique and Storm were fighting, able to singe the Metamorph enough to give Storm a window of opportunity.

That was all he had time for, before Magneto seized hold of his visor and used his powers to fling it across the room. He heard the telltale crack of the shield breaking and knew he was lost.

"My, my. Cyclops. How valiant you look, sprawled beneath me on the floor, there. Charles must be so proud of his team leader."

"Magneto."

"You must be the eloquent one of the lot."

Something in him snapped. He was so tired of fighting impossible odds, of the same stupid struggle over and over. "What is it you’ve got against us? Huh? Wasn’t it enough that we saved your ass last time? And you left us there! Betrayed us and left us to die! You sick fuck!"

Magneto paused, reflecting. "Ah yes. You mean Ms. Jean Gray."

"Mrs. Jean Summers," he spit out, furious.

"I see. Charles’ pet student was your wife. I don’t recall you wearing a ring… But no matter. Poor boy. You must have suffered greatly at her loss. How are you coping?" A snicker.

"Fuck you!" Scott screamed.

"Temper, temper."

"You’ve no idea, Magneto. I’ll open my eyes. I swear to God I will. I’ll blow this whole building sky high if you don’t tell your team to back off!"

Magneto chuckled. "I like your style. Can’t win; everybody loses. You would make a fabulous addition to my team."

"I’d rather die!"

He could hear the smile stretch across that withered face. "As you wish."

Strange squeaks and rumblings came from the ceiling above Scott, and then heavy metal pipes crashed on top of him, one by one, crushing the breath from his lungs, bruising his ribs. It hurt so bad he wished he could pass out.

On the edge of his consciousness he heard a terrible howl, a sound so inhuman and chilling… so filled with rage. Coming closer. Wolverine. Coming for him.

Scott couldn’t see what was happening and the noise of the fighting over the rubble of the pipes made it hard to hear what was going on. Magneto was no doubt using his powers against Wolverine, manipulating the adamantium that coated Logan’s bones to cause maximum pain. Scott could hear Logan’s frustrated growls, his gulps of air. And then he truly wished he could pass out, because nothing on earth hurt him as much as having to listen to Logan in pain.

Suddenly the pipes rolled away and something heavier slammed into him. "Wolverine!" he whispered, clinging to Logan’s straining body. He could hear the claws scrape against the floor, lift, and take position right across his heart.

"No!" Logan bellowed, shaking with rage.

"Logan?" he asked, scared. Magneto was going to use Wolverine’s claws to kill him. Soon he would be with Jean, the pain would end. But… he didn’t want it to. Not like this. Logan would never forgive himself. Logan…

"Scott, push me away," Logan hissed, fighting Magneto’s pull with everything he had in him.

He reached up and cupped Logan’s face tenderly. "It’s okay. It’s not your fault, Logan." As the tips of the claws pierced him, tears ran down Scott’s face. "Logan, I… I made up my mind—huagh!"

"Dammit, Scott, no!" Logan swore as the adamantium claws bled into him. Scott kept his eyes screwed shut, not wanting to hurt his lover.

"Logan…I’m sorry," he whispered.

"No," Logan sobbed, his voice breaking. "I won’t lose you!"

He covered Logan’s hand with his own, feeling the claws inch in deeper. "You won’t…"

The last thing he remembered before blacking out was the metallic taste of his own blood.

~*~

Logan paced outside the lab, the beast in him eager to rip something to shreds. How much longer were they going to be? He wished Jean were here; she was the doctor after all.

His head snapped up at that thought. Christ, he should be wishing Jean were here for Jean’s sake, not Scott’s…

They said the boy was not in serious trouble. Unconscious, yes; wounded, definitely. But nothing life threatening. Thank God for that. Logan would have turned his claws on himself and raked out his own eyes if he’d killed that boy. He would have gone completely insane; the bezerker impulse still thrummed in his veins. Mate, mate, where was his mate?

"Logan. How are you holding up?"

Wagner stood before him, shifting his weight from foot to foot, a nervous twitch about him. He knew he must look really intimidating right now, but Logan couldn’t help it. "He’s in there with Storm and the Professor," he said stupidly

The blue man nodded. "Yes, I know. Between the fire and the pipes and the blood loss, it’s a miracle he’s going to be all right. But then, I’ve come to believe in miracles, Logan. I am wondering how are you doing?"

Logan paused, not sure how to respond. "I was the one who… hurt him…" God, what the fuck was he doing talking to this blue freak? Talking wasn’t going to save Scott!

"No, my friend. Magneto was the one who hurt him. But you held on; you must have a very strong will. You saved him, Logan."

"No, you saved him," Logan ground out. "If you and Storm hadn’t helped when you did…If you didn’t get us out…"

A timid hand rested on his shoulder, and he could see a flash of sharpened teeth. "What else are teammates for? You have more people on your side than you think, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Da, of course."

Logan nodded, but turned to keep pacing at the door. "I wonder how much longer…"

"You know, to pass the time, I might, um, tell you about that dream now."

"Dream?"

"Yes. The nightmare? About a big bird that was on fire--"

"Fire?" Logan was only half listening.

"Yes, it was the most terrifying thing." Nightcrawler crossed himself. "You and Scott were in my dream, too."

"Scott?"

"Yes. And there was this bird, I don’t know how to describe it in English, but--"

Storm opened the lab door and looked at Logan. He practically mowed Nightcrawler down in his hurry to get in the room. "How is he?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "He’ll be fine. The wounds aren’t that deep; he’ll have to wear bandages under his clothes for a week, but he should be able to move around. Once he comes to, that is."

Logan wanted to say thanks, wanted to curl up into a ball and cry like a little baby, but he just nodded and made his way to the table. Scott was sleeping there, his chest covered in white gauze, a new pair of ruby shades covering his eyes. Logan didn’t think about the other two X-Men in the room. He just stared at Scott, at his beautiful boy, his dove with broken wings. Milk-white skin showed some traces of burning; Logan whispered his fingertips over the flesh. He looked at Scott’s face, his young, innocent expression.

"Oh God, Scott. I almost killed you." He could cry; he could just break down and cry.

"But you didn’t," the Professor said. "He’s going to be just fine."

Logan stroked Scott’s hair back from his face, trying to get his emotions back under control. "Thank you, Professor. Storm. Let me know when he wakes up?"

"Of course," Storm said, understanding in her voice.

Logan wanted to stay and hold Scott, but Scott wouldn’t like it if he outed them like that, so he turned and briskly walked away.

He spent the rest of the morning helping the kids and Nightcrawler decorate the mansion for Rogue’s ball. Hopefully after his rest, Scott would be well enough to make an appearance.

Nightcrawler teleported all around the great hall, putting up streamers and balloons faster than the eye could see. Logan was in charge of setting up the tables, speakers and other heavy equipment. Somehow the hard tasks always seem to find him.

When Nightcrawler was satisfied with all the arrangements, Logan went back to his room and took a shower. He walked across the floor, drying his hair off with a towel, when he tripped over something soft on the floor. Scott’s tethered pajama bottoms.

Logan picked up the shredded cloth and crawled into bed, hugging Scott’s scent close to him, pretending it was Scott in his arms. After a long time, he fell asleep, the memory of fire and Scott’s hand on his face haunting his dreams.

He woke with a soft knock at the door. "Logan?" Marie’s voice.

"Come in," he called out.

"What happened?"

"Huh?" he said, blinking fully awake.

She indicated the disheveled sheets and overturned lamp. "Did something happen?"

"Oh. Um. Had a nightmare yesterday."

"Oh," Marie said, looking at her shoes. Logan noticed they were strapped sandal ballroom shoes, the kind models wore in magazines. And Marie was dressed up, too, in a pretty green frock that showed off way too much cleavage for a girl her age.

"Quite a dress there, kid. You trying to give Bobby a coronary?"

She blushed and giggled. "I’m trying to get you to join us downstairs. You are coming aren’t you? The party just started and…" she bit her lip, "I’d really love it if you could come."

He got out of bed, watching as she turned beet-red and spun around quickly. Oh, he was naked. Covering himself with the sheet, he murmured, "Just let me get dressed."

"Right," she said, on the verge of hysterical laughter, still not turning around.

"What are you laughing at, missy?" he teased her, smiling when she covered her mouth and dashed out of the room. Teenagers.

He sighed, put on his one good pair of slacks and dress shirt that the Professor had given him for Christmas, and headed downstairs. Wagner really had done a lovely job with the place; it was all glittery and girly and fancy and crap. Logan didn’t really care, but it made Rogue happy. And God knows that kid deserved some happiness.

He danced with her through a few songs; turned out she had about as much knowledge of ballroom dancing as Logan had, but he didn’t regret the few dance lessons he took with Scott. In fact, the past week with Scott had probably been one of the most precious times in his life… a twisted, tangled sort of tango. He missed having his partner.

Making his way through the crowd of youngsters, each of them dressed up like it was the fucking prom, he shuffled over to Storm.

"Logan." She inclined her head in greeting. "Nice moves."

"He awake yet?"

"Yes, he is," a deep voice said from the top of the stairs.

There stood Scott, dressed to the nines in a full tux, his hair immaculate, a warm smile lighting up his face.

"Scott," Logan choked, drawn to the bottom of the stairs. "You look…" What could he say that wouldn’t sound blatantly gay? Stunning? Enchanting? Edible? Christ, it was going to be hard keeping their secret while Scott made up his mind. He settled for asking, "How are you feeling?"

The boy slowly made his way down the stars, his shoulders back, his gait intent. Sex on legs. He stopped just one step above Logan and dug his hands into Logan’s hair. "I feel just fine, Logan, thank you."

He reeled, shocked. "Summers?"

"Yes?" Scott smiled sweetly.

"Um, in public?"

"Don’t care."

"But I thought--"

"Don’t care," the boy insisted, leaning in close. "What does a guy have to do around here to earn himself a kiss?"

Logan was stunned. It smelled like the same old Scott. It looked the like same old Scott. But it sounded like… like a brand new Scott. Logan instinctively could tell that the boy was being serious. He grinned and closed the gap, sealing his mouth over Scott’s with a possessive growl. The boy eagerly mapped his mouth for endless moments, drawing gasps and hushed exclamations from the crowd.

By the time Summers had let go of his mouth, Logan was sure of two things. Tonight, he was going to get good and fucked. And Scott returned his love.

"I should almost kill you more often," he joked, touching their foreheads together.

"I gotta admit it’s always been a bit of a turn on." It was so good to see Scott happy, so warm and radiant and… alive. Logan threw his head back and laughed with joy, feeling for the first time in a long time like all was right with the world.

Scott beamed at him. "Hey, you know what else is a turn on?"

"No, kid. What?"

"Dancing with you." Scott raised a challenging eyebrow. "How about it, Logan?"

How could he say no? He couldn’t deny this boy anything. Taking up Scott’s arm he led him to the floor, presented his frame and the two of them waltzed around the room to Fred Estaire’s "Heaven."

Some of the students were gaping, but the X-Men were surprisingly placid about the matter, Logan noticed. Perhaps he and Scott weren’t as great at hiding their feelings for each other as they thought.

Scott sighed happily and put his head on Logan’s chest. "Logan?"

"Mm hmm?"

"I…" Scott trailed off.

"Yeah, me too, kid."

The boy nuzzled him and sighed again. God, it felt good having Scott in his arms. Towards the end of the song Logan dipped Scott low to the ground, earning an enthusiastic round of applause and a few wolf-whistles.

And suddenly they toppled to the floor, knocked over by an earth-shattering force of raw energy. Logan instinctively covered Scott with his body, his heart-rate racing as he listened to the children’s frightened screams.

From out of nowhere a bolt of red-yellow flame surged up to the ceiling, taking the form of a fiery peacock. A Phoenix, emblazoned in the air before them, hovering over the svelte form of a young woman.

Logan’s heart broke when Scott shifted under him, that young, tortured voice breaking on the word, "Jean."

~*~

The End.


End file.
